The Sorceress Diaries: Book Two
by Silvver Phoenix
Summary: Hermione continues writing in her diar - journal, as her fifth year begins. But with Harry's attitude, Ron's obliviousness, Malfoy's nastiness, and that Umbridge woman, fifth year isn't looking very good. Sequel to TSD: Book One.
1. Friday, 1 September

**Disclaimer: **If I owned Harry Potter, I'd be adored by millions, would insist upon cameos in all the movies, and would be rolling in cash. Unfortunately, I do not own Harry Potter. The characters in this fic, along with several scenes and a lot of dialogue, belong to J.K. Rowling. However, Hermione's thoughts and feelings belong to me. And Ron. *Ba dum, chh!* Damn, I'm good. All the new scenes and/or "extended scenes" (this is sounding like a DVD right about now) also came from little old me.

**Warning:** This fic contains a good, healthy dose of R/H. Not overwhelming amounts, but you have been warned nonetheless. Take _Order of the Phoenix, and then take the R/H up a notch. Like Emeril. BAM!_

**Warning #2:** You will be totally and completely lost if you have not read _The Sorceress Diaries: Book One_. Well, perhaps not totally and completely lost…but go read it anyways. And review. And stuff.

**Author's notes:** Finally! I've had this started for quite awhile, but with that damn schoolwork and those even damner (I realize this is not an adjective, but these are my author's notes and I will do whatever the hell I please, thank you very much) exams, I haven't had much time for writing/editing/posting. But here it is …the affectionately nicknamed _The Sorceress Diaries: Reloaded (kudos to Chibikat for the brilliant title). Book One (which, as previously mentioned, you should probably read before tackling this) covered the trio's summer as written in _Order of the Phoenix_, but from Hermione's perspective. Book Two will cover the first day of school up until roughly New Year's or so, I haven't really decided exactly when._

Huge thanks and numerous sexy pictures of Alan Rickman (^_~) go out to Chibikat, whose input, encouragement, and super duper beta-ing skills are the reason this book even got started. You rock my socks, Kat. You rock them hard.

So without further ado…

**The Sorceress Diaries: Book Two**

_Journal of Hermione Granger, aged fifteen years minus eighteen days_

Friday, 1 September

_3:56 a.m._

Well, I can't sleep, so I may as well do something constructive.

Goals for the school year:

1) Achieve an "O" level in every O.W.L.

2) Make certain Harry and Ron achieve an "O" level in every O.W.L.

3) Or at least an "E".

4) But not by passively surrendering homework and giving them the answers. Will aid friends with gentle but firm encouragement.

5) Continue fight against forces of ignorance and oppression by figuring out a way to free Hogwarts house-elves, and recruiting new members for S.P.E.W.

7) Remind the old members of S.P.E.W. (Harry, Ron, Viktor, Mum, Dad) of their duties.

8) Contribute to school community in a positive way by honouring new prefect duties and setting a good example for younger students.

9) Begin looking into career paths and setting career goals for self.

10) Do not, under any circumstances, think about things that should not be thought about which have to do with a certain someone who will not be mentioned by name because that may or may not set off thinking about said things that should not be thought about.

_4:27 a.m._

I just had the most brilliant idea! Those hats that I made while trying to learn to knit a few weeks ago…Sirius won't allow me to give them to Kreacher, but what if I left them for the Hogwarts house-elves to find? Oh, why didn't I think of this before?! I'm going to start making new hats and leaving them around the common room as soon as I get to Hogwarts! The house-elves may not want to pick them up at first…so perhaps I'll have to hide them…so that they'll pick them up by accident…not that I'm trying to trick them, of course. They'll probably be ecstatic as soon as they realize what it means to be free! And once I get back to school I can use magic to knit instead of attempting to do it by hand, which is an enormous pain in the neck. Oh, this is so exciting! I always have my best ideas when I'm half-delirious in the middle of the night.

_5:14 a.m._

I wonder if anyone else is awake.

_5:21 a.m._

Nope.

_9:25 a.m._

Well, I did some reading after the last entry, and surprisingly, that put me to sleep for a little bit. This may be because the Defense Against the Dark Arts text is an excellent cure for insomnia. I have a dreadful feeling that this is going to be a horrible year in terms of Defense Against the Dark Arts; that text is the dullest thing I have ever read in my entire life, and that's saying something.

Oh my goodness! It's 10:25, not 9:25!!!

_10:03 p.m._

Lavender and Parvarti aren't saying anything. Perhaps they've gone to sleep. Or perhaps they're silently plotting against me somehow. I really don't care.

It's been an absolutely insane day. We were late in getting ready thanks to my less-than-stellar time-reading skills, Fred and George nearly broke Ginny's neck by sending their trunk flying into her on the stairs, Ron panicked because he thought he had lost his prefect badge, only to discover it was in his pocket (the dolt), Hedwig almost didn't return to Grimmauld Place in time for me to give her back to Harry before we left, Sturgis Podmore didn't show up (as part of Harry's "guard" to King's Cross; of course Harry wasn't happy about that), Sirius recklessly insisted on coming with us to King's Cross, and I didn't even get to say goodbye to Kreacher.

But mercifully, we all managed to get to King's Cross on time, Ron and I with Mr. Weasley and the others with Mrs. Weasley, Tonks and Professor Lupin. Mad-Eye met us there, and then we all said goodbye. Although I'm so relieved to be out of Grimmauld Place, I will miss Tonks – she's been so kind and friendly to Ginny and I – not to mention Ron's parents, Lupin, and even Sirius…although his coming to the station was an enormous mistake…but I'll get to that later.

Once we had all scrambled onto the train, and the twins had gone off to do "business" (oh dear) with Lee, Harry turned to Ron and I.

"Shall we go and find a compartment, then?" he asked. Ron and I exchanged looks, and then Ron got very busy examining his fingernails.

"We're – well – Ron and I are supposed to go into the prefect carriage," I explained. I looked to Ron for help, but he was determinedly not looking at Harry. I sighed.

"Oh. Right. Fine," said Harry in typical I-appear-to-be-all-right-with-this-but-really-I'm-not fashion.

All right, that was uncalled for and a tiny bit mean. I know Harry has a right to be like that occasionally.

…But really, it's getting old.

I explained to him that we'd only be there for about an hour, and Ron and I were just about to leave when Ron anxiously spoke up. "It's a pain having to go down there," he said very fast. "I'd rather…but we have to…I mean, I'm not enjoying it, I'm not Percy."

"I know you're not," said Harry with what I hope was a genuine grin. But Ron still looked anxious as I dragged him away, towards the prefect carriage.

"I'm not," he repeated, for my sake, presumably.

"Of course you're not Percy," I said, feeling quite impatient with him at the moment, since I thought we were late. "But you don't have to justify yourself to Harry. He's happy for you."

Ron said nothing until we got into the prefect's carriage. There, to our utter delight (sarcasm), we found none other than…joy…Draco Malfoy. He and Pansy Parkinson are the Slytherin prefects. Gag.

"Well, well, well," said Malfoy softly as we walked in, a look of mild surprise on his face. Ron stopped in his tracks, promptly scowled, and balled his fists. I just glared at him. If I can tell off Emma Crick, I can most certainly tell off Draco Malfoy. I am so extremely sick of him. This year, I absolutely refuse to take it from him. And to think he's a prefect. He was absolutely horrible to a first-year when we first got to Hogwarts…but never mind, I'll get to that.

"What an accurate representation of Gryffindor house – a Mudblood, and a Mudblood-lover," Malfoy smirked.

"Did it take you all summer to think up that one, Malfoy?" Ron snapped sarcastically.

Ron: 1, Malfoy: 0.

Malfoy looked slightly taken aback, but that disgusting smirk quickly hitched itself back onto his face. Pansy (how did she get to be a prefect?! How?!) sauntered over, wearing an expression eerily similar to Draco's.

"I must admit I'm surprised that Dumbledore's favourite boy isn't here," Malfoy said. "I suppose even Dumbledore has finally realized that Potter really is a – "

"Everyone here?" said the Head Girl, Margaret Hunter, briskly. Ron and I contented ourselves with glaring at Malfoy and then took seats next to Ernie Macmillan and Hannah Abbott. Ravenclaw's prefects are Anthony Goldstein and Padma Patil, who looked at Ron disdainfully when we sat down.

Margaret and Robert Brooks, the Head Boy, proceeded to introduce themselves and explain to us our duties for the year. It sounds like a lot of responsibilities, but I'm really very excited about it, and I took lots of notes so that I won't forget anything. Our duties include, but are not limited to, the following:

1) Patrolling the corridors of the Hogwarts Express during the journey, and supervising students as they get off the train. (That one's a bit obsolete now, obviously, but we're supposed to supervise the train ride home too).

2) Leading first-years to the Gryffindor common room after the Sorting Feast. (Already done too, of course.)

3) Maintaining order and supervising students in our common rooms, the corridors, the grounds, and the Great Hall. (Ron looked absolutely petrified at this…I think he realized that he's responsible for telling off the twins, if the occasion arises.)

4) Giving detentions (they stressed when we see fit…but of course that won't stop Malfoy from blatantly abusing his privileges…argh), or notifying a teacher when we see students misbehaving or breaking any of the school rules.

5) Supervising the students during Quidditch matches and Hogsmeade visits, and ensuring that all students return to the school safely afterwards. ("Great, I won't be able to enjoy a Quidditch match or Hogsmeade visit all year if we have to watch the little buggers," Ron grumbled. Really.)

6) Providing a positive example for younger students as well as help and advice to any of our house-mates. (This produced a hilarious mental picture of Malfoy lending some arbitrary first-year Slytherin a shoulder to cry on, and earned me several strange looks from the other prefects and Ron when I had to clap my hand over my mouth to keep from bursting into laughter. Sometimes I can be very silly.)

It sounds like a lot of hard work, but it also sounds like a lot of fun! We have prefects meetings once a week on Saturday mornings, and we get all sorts of privileges, like our own lovely bathrooms and a little prefect's lounge on the third floor! Ron seemed to perk up a little at that, although I'm afraid the prospect of sharing a lounge with Malfoy is not very appealing to me, personally. Oh well, hopefully he'll stick with the Slytherin common room.

"That's it!" Rob (Robert told us to call him Rob; he's such a nice boy and really smart too…Margaret told me that he wants to be a Healer when he graduates from Hogwarts…it's so difficult to get in though, you have to get a ton of N.E.W.T's) said brightly. "We're supposed to get you lot to patrol the corridors from time to time, but Maggie and I will take care of that for the most part so you can get something to eat," he grinned. "I think the trolley's already gone by, but hopefully you've got some good friends that got you something."

"Hopefully. I'm starved," Ron said enthusiastically, unceremoniously picking up Crookshanks and dumping him in my arms, and then grabbing Pig's cage.

"Detention, Weasley," said Malfoy from behind us. I was very tempted to tell him to get a hobby…but sadly, I really believe that taunting us is his hobby.

 "Oh, honestly Malfoy, you can't give him detention," I snapped irritably.

"What for?" Ron said in a bored voice, rolling his eyes.

"For being that ugly," Malfoy smirked. Pansy let out a high-pitched squeal which I think was supposed to be a laugh. Ron's face turned red. I gritted my teeth and dragged him out of the prefect's carriage.

Us: 1, Malfoy: 1

"word that describes Malfoy perfectly but that I do not care to repeat, even in writing…" muttered Ron savagely as we searched for Harry and Ginny. "Why would Dumbledore make him a prefect?"

I sighed. "Well if you think about it, what other choices were there? Crabbe? Goyle?"

"Good point," said Ron as we finally found Harry. He was in a compartment with Neville, Ginny, and that strange Luna girl from Ravenclaw. I don't mean to be rude, but she seems a bit…batty, quite frankly. And how was I supposed to know that her father was the editor of that rubbish magazine? Anyway…we told everyone who the other prefects were (Ron still seemed bitter about Malfoy, but he contented himself with shoving numerous chocolate frogs down his throat in a thoroughly disgusting fashion), then Harry started reading that Luna girl's magazine and Ginny, Neville, and I started talking about Quidditch.

All right, so Neville and Ginny started talking about Quidditch. I listened and nodded. I just can't get into that sport…it's only interesting when Harry's playing.

Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end, and predictably, Malfoy showed up in our carriage not ten minutes later. The door opened and there was Malfoy, flanked by his cronies Crabbe and Goyle, who seem to have increased both in girth and stupidity over the summer.

"What?" said Harry in annoyance before Malfoy could even open his mouth. That's another point for us. I love it when Malfoy doesn't get the first word or the last laugh.

"Manners, Potter, or I'll give you a detention," Malfoy drawled. "You see I, unlike you, have been made a prefect, which means that I, unlike you, have the power to hand out punishments."

What a complete sack of lies; he can't give Harry detention without permission and a reason any easier than he could give Professor McGonagall detention. Prat.

But Harry, unfazed, shot back, "Yeah. But you, unlike me, are a git, so get out and leave us alone."

Us: 3, Malfoy: 1. Unfortunately, our victory did not last long.

"Tell me, how does it feel to be second-best to Weasley, Potter?" Malfoy snarled.

I hate that boy.

"Shut up, Malfoy," I snapped.

"I seem to have touched a nerve," said Malfoy, obviously enjoying himself. "Well just watch yourself, Potter, because I'll be dogging your footsteps in case you step out of line."

I breathed in sharply and stood up. "Get out!"

Malfoy snickered, but he gave one last glare to Harry, and then to myself, and quickly left. I like to think that Malfoy's somewhat wary of me. He probably thinks that I might do something unexpected and violent, like slap him again. But I'm fairly sure that slapping another prefect is grounds for having your prefect duties taken away from you. Unfortunately.

But that wasn't what was on my mind then…it was Malfoy's use of the word "dogging". Obviously, Peter Pettigrew would have told Voldemort about Sirius being an Animagus, so it's not so hard to believe that Lucius Malfoy would know about it. I knew Sirius coming to the station was a mistake! What if this gets back to Malfoy Sr.? I seriously considered writing a letter to Grimmauld Place immediately, but then I remembered what Mad-Eye said: "If in doubt, don't put it in a letter at all." So there goes that idea.

Harry and I exchanged meaningful looks, but of course Ron didn't notice anything amiss, thanks to his excellent observational skills (sarcasm again).

The rest of the train ride was uneventful. Ron and I left the carriage early to supervise the students getting their things together and getting off the train. It's amazing how much more respect you get with a prefect's badge pinned to your robes, especially from the first-years! They look up to you, they respect you…it was a wonderful feeling. I could tell Ron rather liked it too. As much as he's trying not to enjoy the fact that he's a prefect – because of Percy - I know that he is enjoying it, just a little.

Once everyone was off the train, I immediately looked around for Hagrid. Something cold settled in my stomach when I spotted Professor Grubbly-Plank with a lantern near the docks, calling for the first-years. I grabbed Ron's arm.

"Where's Hagrid?" I demanded, as if he would know.

"Hagrid?" repeated Ron, looking around quickly. He spotted Professor Grubbly-Plank. "No…what's she - ?"

A group of first-years who had been struggling with their luggage suddenly broke us apart, hurrying to get over to Professor Grubbly-Plank. Ron and I got separated in the crowd, and I was roughly jostled by several excited students until I found myself on the other side of the platform. I started heading back towards where I'd seen Ron's head disappear, but then I spotted Malfoy. He was looming over a tiny, blonde first-year boy, who was clutching his luggage to his chest.

"Repeat it," Malfoy commanded. A few of his mindless Slytherin followers, including Pansy, Crabbe, Goyle, and Blaise Zabini, had formed a circle around the poor boy to prevent him from escaping.

The boy's eyes darted around at the circle of people enclosing him. "I…I'm a lowly piece of first-year scum…and will watch where I'm…I'm going - " the boy whispered reluctantly.

"MALFOY!"

"Yes, Granger, can I help you?" Malfoy sneered.

"Let – that – boy – go – this – instant!" I said furiously, breaking through his little Slytherin circle to stand near the small first-year.

"I'm sorry Granger, are you under the impression that you have more authority than me?" Malfoy said in mock surprise. "Because if so, you would not only be delusional, but also sorely mistaken."

"I don't care if you're wearing a prefect's badge, you can not treat first-years like that!" I yelled.

"He bumped into me. I was simply disciplining him," Malfoy said lazily. His cronies snickered. The first-year boy, who had remained motionless behind me, suddenly stepped up beside me, jutting out his chin. Crabbe glowered at him. The boy seemed to change his mind and hastily stepped behind me again.

"I'm reporting you to Professor McGonagall," I said coldly. I put a hand on the first-year boy's shoulder and started marching away with him.

"Of course, run to McGonagall," Malfoy called after me. "Unfortunately, she won't be able to protect you and the other Mudbloods from what's coming!"

I ignored him, but that didn't stop the shivers that suddenly went down my spine.

…Us: 3; Malfoy: 3

 "Thanks," said the first-year boy quietly. His name's Euan, I believe; he was Sorted into Gryffindor.

"If he bothers you again, tell me or one of the other prefects, or a teacher, all right?" I said. He nodded and then hurried towards Professor Grubbly-Plank.

When I finally found Harry and Ron, they were looking around as if they had lost something. I ranted to them about Malfoy's foul behaviour, got Crookshanks back from Ginny, and then got into the carriage. That Luna girl came along with us, and when Ginny brought up Hagrid, she came out of her own little world for a moment.

"Hagrid can't have left, can he?" Ginny asked worriedly.

"I'll be quite glad if he has," Luna said. "He isn't a very good teacher, is he?"

"Yes he is!" said Ron, Harry, and Ginny all at once. Harry glared at me, and I felt my cheeks flush.

"Erm…yes…he's very good," I supplied. Well, it's not a lie, but it's not the truth either. Hagrid knows his material and he is very, very good with magical creatures, but...Malfoy scared him back in third year and I don't think Hagrid's ever gotten his confidence back. Everything comes back to Malfoy, the dirty, rotten…and who does that Luna girl think she is, anyway? Criticizing Hagrid when she'd snapped at me for criticizing her father's rubbish magazine on the train…and what does she care about who Ron went to the Yule Ball with?!

"Well, we in Ravenclaw think he's a bit of a joke," Luna said conversationally.

"You've got a rubbish sense of humour, then," Ron snapped. This didn't seem to bother Luna though; she just stared at Ron for the rest of the carriage ride.

Hagrid wasn't in the Great Hall either, but no one else seemed to notice his absence. In fact, I think Professor Dumbledore was trying not to call attention to it. Hagrid must still be doing something for the Order…I just hope he's not hurt…or in danger…

Then we spotted the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.

"It's that Umbridge woman!" Harry exclaimed.

"Who?" I asked.

"She was at my hearing, she works for Fudge!"

"Nice cardigan," Ron snorted. I have to admit - it was a horrid cardigan. She dresses and speaks like a ten-year-old girl…which is somehow unsettling…

"She works for Fudge!" I said, frowning. "What on earth's she doing here then?" I glanced up and down the staff table, and suddenly a horrible thought occurred to me. She works for Fudge. Fudge sent her. The Ministry is interfering at Hogwarts.

Just then, the first-years were brought in to be Sorted. The Sorting Hat was singing quite a different tune this year. All throughout the song, a very cold feeling was growing in the pit of my stomach. I was listening intently, but I couldn't keep my eyes off Professor Umbridge, with that fake smile plastered on her face. As the song went on, the smile kept getting faker and faker. By the end it looked more like she was grimacing.

I'm worried about the Sorting Hat's song. Are things so bad that the Sorting Hat feels the need to give the school advice? Don't get me wrong, it was sound advice…but it was also frightening. "Know the perils, read the signs…Hogwarts is in danger from external, deadly foes…we must unite inside her…" I don't think many people knew what to make of it, and those that did are going to have a hard time following that advice. But I think it's very true…we do have to unite from within if we want to have a chance against You-Know-Who.

We asked Nearly Headless Nick about it during the feast, and he said that the hat's given the school warnings before, whenever it feels the school's in danger. But then we didn't find out anything more, because Ron had to go and insult poor Nick. As if it wasn't bad enough that he disgusted everyone at the Gryffindor table by shovelling indecent quantities of food into his mouth.

After the feast, Umbridge interrupted Dumbledore during his speech (she interrupted Dumbledore…the nerve!) to say a little speech of her own, which was rather illuminating. She confirmed my suspicion that the Ministry is going to be keeping a very close eye on Hogwarts this year. I don't know just how much power this Umbridge woman has (or thinks she has) at the Ministry or at Hogwarts, but I didn't like the sound of it. We have other things to worry about besides having to worry about the Ministry of Magic interfering at Hogwarts. And if her speech was any indication, Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons are going to be horrible this year.

After the feast, Ron and I had to take the new Gryffindor first-years (they seem like a good bunch) to the common room. I showed the girls to their dormitory and reminded them where mine is just in case they have any questions for me. They seemed too tired to care about anything at the time, but I'm sure they'll have loads of questions for me in the morning.

I went back down to the common room, just to see if Ron and Harry were there, and finding it Ron and Harry-less I headed back up to my dormitory. I froze outside the door, however, when I heard Parvarti and Lavender talking in low voices.

"…see who he took the carriage with? Loony Lovegood. Mum told me he'd gone mad; he must be if he's hanging around with her."

"I don't know, Lavender…"

"But he's done all those crazy things! Do you remember in Divination last year, when he started screaming in his sleep? He's always been strange…and now he's making up those stories about You-Know-Who - "

Having heard enough, I strode furiously into the room and slammed the door behind me. They immediately stopped talking. Turning pink, Lavender cleared her throat, got up off her bed, and started unpacking her things with her back to me.

"Oh…hi Hermione!" Parvarti said in a fake, nervous-sounding voice. "How was your summer?"

"Harry is not mad," I said furiously. "He is not strange, he is not a liar, and You-Know-Who is back."

Lavender whirled around to face me with her hands on her hips, looking flushed. "Well…that's just the sort of thing…of course you're going to believe him," she stammered defensively.

"What is that supposed to mean?" I demanded.

"Well…you're his friend...and…and…well, I'm entitled to my own opinion!" Lavender said shrilly. She looked to Parvarti for help, but Parvarti had gone strangely quiet.

"Fine, but keep your misinformed opinion to yourself," I snapped. "I won't have you spreading rumours about Harry."

Lavender pursed her lips and her chin wobbled. She looked as if she couldn't decide whether to scream at me or burst into tears. Not really caring which she decided upon, I stomped into the bathroom, changed into my nightgown, and without looking at either of them, shut myself up in my bed and started writing in here. Neither of them said a word after that. They must both be asleep by now.

I hate ignorant people, I am going to hate this Umbridge woman, and I hate Malfoy. The tally for today ends at Us: 3; Malfoy: 3.

…Not that I'm doing anything childish, like keeping score.

Oh, dear. This year hasn't started out on a very positive note, has it?__


	2. Monday, 4 September

**Author's Notes:** I realize there's a slight canonical error here…you see, with the date system I had going here, September the 1st took place on a Friday. Seeing as the next day (the first day of classes) in the books is referred to as a Monday, I sort of had to invent a weekend in between. Hope this doesn't cause any problems or make people come after me with torches and pitchforks. It doesn't really affect the story, so live with it.

Congrats to new FU member Aneko Kohana, and thanks to Aeterna for her amazing (gasp!) poem.

I know there's a debate over whether Hermione is currently almost 15 or almost 16…personally I always thought it was almost 15, because that's how things tend to work in the school system here in crazy Canada. But whatever, almost 15 she shall remain for the purposes of this fic, and we shall have to agree to disagree.

As for the much-asked question of whether Ron and Hermione will "get together" at the end of Sorceress Diaries, here is the answer:

I dunno yet.

^_^

Monday, 4 September

_5:24 p.m._

I'm afraid I was right in my last entry - this has had to be one of the worst first days of school ever. And it's such a shame, because I was so looking forward to my fifth year; but with the twins' idiocy, Harry's attitude, Ron's cluelessness, Lavender's and Seamus's ignorance, Snape's unfairness, and that Umbridge woman, it isn't looking good.

First of all, the twins put up a ridiculous sign on the bulletin board this morning...they're going to try to trick the first-years into being testers for their little experiments. Of course, Ron seemed positively alarmed when I told him we had to do something about it. Harry didn't really care either way because he was in one of his moods this morning. Apparently Seamus' attitude is a lot like Lavender's, and things in the boys' dormitory haven't exactly been peachy.

"Seamus reckons Harry's lying about You-Know-Who," Ron supplied when Harry said nothing, and only sulked.

I sighed. "Yes, Lavender thinks so too."

"Been having a nice little chat with her about whether or not I'm a lying, attention-seeking prat, have you?" snapped Harry loudly.

"No, I told her to keep her big fat mouth shut about you, actually. And it would be quite nice if you stopped jumping down our throats, Harry, because in case you haven't noticed, Ron and I are on your side," I replied.

Harry stared at the ground. "Sorry," he murmured.

"That's quite all right. Don't you remember what Dumbledore said at the last end-of-term feast?"

The two of them looked at me blankly. I sighed, and repeated what Dumbledore told us about You-Know-Who's gift for spreading enmity and discord, etc.

Ron looked at me in admiration. Or maybe it was astonishment. Who can tell with him? "How do you remember all that?"

Same way I remember every stupid thing you say so that I can write it in here. "I listen, Ron," I said out loud, rolling my eyes.

After trying (and failing) to convince Harry and Ron that a bit of inter-house unity wouldn't hurt, we went down to breakfast. There was nothing in the _Daily Prophet_ about Harry or Dumbledore or anyone, but no news is good news, so at least that was a good sign. Oh, and on the way to History of Magic, Ron mentioned that he's been thinking about becoming an Auror! I think it's wonderful that he's setting such high career goals for himself...Aurors are the elite, after all, and it's a very dangerous and demanding job. Harry agreed that being an Auror would be cool as well. Of course, he'd make an excellent Auror, seeing as he's probably fought more Dark wizards than all of the lazy idiots – except Kingsley and Tonks, of course – at the Ministry put together. But when the boys asked me what I wanted to do after Hogwarts, I didn't really have an answer. Which reminds me that I have to start setting career goals for myself this year. I would love to take S.P.E.W. further, of course...but continuing on...

History of Magic was dull, as usual, but that doesn't mean that Ron and Harry should sleep through it. I threatened to not let them use my notes this year, but I really don't want them to fail, which is what would indefinitely happen if I didn't give them my notes.

Then out in the courtyard during break, who should come up to Harry but Cho Chang? And who should completely ruin Harry's chances but Ron? He practically jumped down Cho's throat about some stupid Quidditch team, and she left. He is so tactless...it's obvious Harry fancies her. Or perhaps Ron hasn't noticed. He has a gift for being oblivious to these kinds of things, after all.

Potions was disappointing; I thought that perhaps Snape would be a bit better this year...you know, with him being in the Order and all...but he was completely awful and unfair to Harry and Neville, as usual. Perhaps he has to keep up the charade for sake of appearances; after all, if Snape suddenly started favoring Harry over Malfoy, it would be as good as wearing a giant badge that says, "I'm a proud member of the Order of the Phoenix!" Or something of the like.

"Poisonous toadstools never change their spots," said Ron wisely at lunch. "Anyway, I've always thought Dumbledore was cracked to trust Snape. Where's the evidence he ever really stopped working for You-Know-Who?"

"I think Dumbledore's probably got plenty of evidence, even if he doesn't share it with you, Ron," I retorted, annoyed.

"Oh shut up, the pair of you," interrupted Harry. Ron and I both froze mid-argument. "Can't you give it a rest? You're always having a go at each other, it's driving me mad." And with that, he got up and moodily stomped out of the Great Hall. Ron and I slowly turned to stare at each other again. His cheeks were sort of red.

"Well – that was just - " I began, offended.

"We're not – not always having a go at each other - " muttered Ron defensively.

"Of course we're not..."

"He's just grumpy..."

"Totally uncalled for..."

We both lapsed into silence and stared at our plates.

"Sorry," Ron muttered. This was the second apology I've ever gotten from him. And this one was an outright apology!

"Me too," I said. "But really...I don't think we...we're not always fighting."

"I know...we're just..." Ron shrugged, at a loss for words. "That's just..."

"Us." The word came out of my mouth before I had even thought about it. I probably turned a brilliant shade of red. Ron's ears certainly did.

"Yeah," Ron agreed. A goofy kind of smile slowly started forming on his face, but then he knocked his spoon to the ground with his elbow and had to dive under the table to retrieve it. When he re-emerged, his ears were back to their normal colour, and I had composed myself.

"It would be nice if Harry would stop taking out his temper on us, though," I said with a sigh.

Ron shrugged. "He's..."

"I know. I understand. But we're on his side, and he's making it extremely difficult for us to be on his side by keeping on like this," I said matter-of-factly.

The lunch bell rang soon after that, and I headed to Arithmancy while Ron joined Harry in Divination. Thank goodness for Arithmancy; it was the only enjoyable class I had today. We have these independent study assignments which we have to work on by ourselves all year, with checkpoints throughout this term. It seems like a load of work but I got a really interesting topic – the ancient Greeks and their contribution to Magic Numbers Theory – and I'm really excited about it. I know most people aren't starting for awhile but perhaps I'll go down to the library after dinner... 

But the most eventful class today was, undoubtedly, Defense Against the Dark Arts.

One of the first things out of that horrible woman's mouth was, "Wands away." The class groaned; apparently everyone thinks a lesson can only be interesting if we're performing magic, but personally I don't mind a theory-centered lesson once and awhile. Once and awhile.

After telling us that we are "far below the standard the Ministry would expect to see in our OWL year", she made us copy down the following course aims:

1. Understanding the principles underlying defensive magic.

2. Learning to recognize situations in which defensive magic can be legally used.

3. Placing the use of defensive magic in a context for practical use.

She then assigned us a chapter to read (which proves that she is not only lazy, but also incompetent in the subject – any teacher who lets the text teach for them is, in my experience) and sat down.

I don't know if anyone else did, but the first thing I noticed was that there was nothing about using defensive magic in her outline. So, I raised my hand. Now, in my experience, when a student raises their hand, it means that they either have a question, or they would like to answer a question. Since Umbridge had not asked a question, it would imply that I had a question for her. Now, normally, teachers promptly respond to a raised hand and answer any questions. But apparently, Ministry-approved teachers ignore their students. I kept my hand in the air for at least five minutes, staring her down. Slowly, the rest of the class stopped doing the reading (which was dreadfully dull; I read it that night before the first day of school, when I couldn't sleep, and it actually put me back to sleep) and started watching me. When everyone had abandoned reading in favour of watching me attempt to get her attention, Umbridge finally relented.

"Did you want to ask something about the chapter, dear?" she asked, as if she hadn't spent the last five minutes purposefully avoiding looking at me.

"Not about the chapter, no," I said.

"Well we're reading just now. If you have other queries we can deal with them at the end of class," she said, smiling sickeningly.

"I've got a query about your course aims," I persisted.

Umbridge raised her eyebrows and asked what my name was. "Well, Miss Granger, I think the course aims are perfectly clear."

"Well, I don't. There's nothing written up there about using defensive spells."

Dead silence.

"Using defensive spells?" Umbridge said after a few seconds. "Why, I can't imagine any situation arising in my classroom that would require you to use a defensive spell, Miss Granger. You surely aren't expecting to be attacked during class?"

"We're not going to use magic?" Ron exclaimed.

This prompted outrage from various members of the class, including Harry, Dean, and even Parvarti. Umbridge not only insulted our intelligences; she also managed to insult Hogwarts, Dumbledore, and Professor Lupin. She actually called him an "extremely dangerous half-breed"! The nerve of that woman! Basically, the first time we will be allowed to perform defensive magic is at our exam. Apparently, if we've "studied the theory hard enough, there is no reason why we should not be able to perform the spells under carefully controlled examination conditions". That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard!

Predictably, Harry snapped.

"And what good's theory going to be in the real world?" Harry demanded hotly.

"This is school, Mr. Potter, not the real world."

"So we're not supposed to be prepared for what's waiting out there?"

"There is nothing waiting out there, Mr. Potter."

"Oh yeah?" Harry said loudly. I exchanged looks with Ron; Harry looked as if he was going to explode.

"Harry..." I said softly. I don't think he heard me. Or, he ignored me.

"Who do you imagine wants to attack children like yourself?" Umbridge asked sweetly.

"Hmm, let's think," Harry said in a sarcastic voice. "Maybe...Lord Voldemort?"

Several people gasped, and Neville almost fell off his stool. Really, we shouldn't be afraid of a name like that...but I flinched too, a little. It's not right...I have to try harder...fear of a name only increases fear of the thing itself...

Umbridge promptly took ten points from Gryffindor. "Now, let me make a few things quite plain," she said in a steely tone unlike the sickly sweet one she had been using up until then. "You have been told that a certain Dark wizard has returned from the dead - "

"He wasn't dead, but yeah, he's returned," Harry interrupted.

Umbridge snapped at Harry again, and then continued. "As I was saying, this is a lie."

"It is not a lie!" Harry exploded. "I saw him, I fought him!"

Umbridge slapped Harry with detention. "The Ministry of Magic guarantees that you are not in danger from any Dark wizard. If you are still worried, by all means come and see me outside class hours. If someone is alarming you with fibs about reborn Dark wizards, I would like to hear about it. I am here to help. I am your friend."

So now she wants us to go and snitch to her if anyone around school is telling the truth. Ron gave a fervent, warning look to everyone in the classroom when Umbridge turned around to return to her desk, as if to tell them that if anyone does snitch to her, they'll have to answer to him. Which I thought was quite brave for someone who doesn't even want to stand up to his own older brothers.

I was quite angry by this point as well. My fists were clenched and my hands were shaking slightly. But nothing compared to the look of fury on Harry's face. I loathed Umbridge almost as much as he did by that point, but I knew that if Harry lost his temper, it wouldn't just mean detention. Anything Harry says to Umbridge is going to get back to Fudge.

Nonetheless, Harry leaped out of his seat, eyes blazing.

"Harry, no!" I whispered, tugging at his sleeve. He yanked it away.

"So according to you, Cedric Diggory dropped dead of his own accord, did he?" Harry demanded, voice shaking. The entire class seemed to breathe in sharply at the same time.

"Cedric Diggory's death was a tragic accident," Umbridge replied in a clipped voice.

"It was murder. Voldemort killed him, and you know it." Harry was visibly shaking by this point. Seamus was staring at Harry in horror or fascination, I couldn't tell which. Lavender was covering her eyes, as if afraid that Voldemort would appear in the classroom when Harry spoke his name. Which is ridiculous, since she claims to believe that Harry's lying and Voldemort isn't back at all.

There was dead silence again, and then Umbridge sweetly said, "Come here, Mr. Potter, dear."

Harry kicked his chair to the side and marched up to her desk furiously. Umbridge wrote something on a piece of parchment and gave it to Harry, saying something to him softly. Harry snatched the piece of parchment out of her hand and strode out of the classroom without a backwards glance at the rest of us. He slammed the door on his way out. Everyone stared at the door.

"You will all return to the reading," Umbridge said in her "sweet" voice. No one objected; silently, everyone returned to staring blankly at the first page of their texts. When the bell rang, no one said a word until we were out in the hall, at which point I'm sure the story started spreading like wildfire.

"Where do you think she sent Harry?" asked Ron in a low, awe-stricken voice as soon as we were away from the rest of the class.

"It doesn't matter, it's not as if Professor Dumbledore or Professor McGonagall would expel him for what he said...it was the truth...but he has to be careful! What was he thinking, saying those things to her?" I said anxiously as we headed back to the common room. "It's only going to get back to Fudge..."

"Harry's mad," Ron agreed. "Mad, but brilliant," he added with a hint of admiration. "Did you see the look on Umbridge's face? Blimey."

I frowned. "Well, yes, it was quite brave of him," I admitted. "But now Harry has detention, Umbridge is going to go back to the Ministry and tell them that Harry's still 'spreading fibs about Dark wizards', and the entire school is going to be talking about this within the hour."

"Harry'll love that," Ron said grimly, glancing at a group of fourth-years, huddled together and whispering as we entered the portrait hole. They stopped when we glared at them.

"I guarantee Lavender and Parvarti are down in the Great Hall right now, telling anything that moves about what happened," I said. And they must be; they're not up here in the dormitory, and I didn't see them in the common room. I haven't seen Harry since the incident, so I have no idea where he was sent or what happened. He's probably back by now, though; I'm going down to the common room to check, it's time to go down to dinner anyway.

_10:39 p.m._

Argh! The twins make me so mad sometimes – they're in their final year and they waste their time and energy creating completely useless jokes and pranks! I can't stop them from testing the stupid things on themselves but when they start giving them to first-years they have gone too far.

Oh, and I'd like to take this opportunity to, in writing, thank Ron for all his support. (Sarcasm).

I'm not going to let Fred and George feed Nosebleed Nougats and whatever else they come up with to the poor first-years. They may think that they're above prefects and the school system and everyone else at Hogwarts, but I told them that I'm not going to stand for it. They thought it was very funny at first, Hermione the prefect attempting to discipline the great Weasley twins, ho, ho, what a laugh. But I got them in the end.

I threatened to write to their mother.

"You wouldn't," George said, horrified.

"Oh yes, I would," I replied firmly. I left the astounded-looking twins and tried to return to my homework, but it was no good, I couldn't concentrate. I told Ron and Harry that I was heading to bed, but first I took out two of the hats I knit last night and left them on the table for the house-elves.

"What in the name of Merlin are you doing?" Ron asked, looking at me as if I were crazy.

"They're hats for the house-elves." I explained the purpose of the hats to him and Harry. They should really be supportive, seeing as they're secretary and treasurer of S.P.E.W.

"You're leaving out hats for the house-elves?" said Ron slowly. "And you're covering them up with rubbish first?"

"Yes," I said, glaring at him and daring him to oppose me.

"That's not on! You're trying to trick them into picking up hats!" Ron said furiously. "You're setting them free when they might not want to be free!"

"Of course they want to be free! Don't you dare touch those hats, Ron!" I snapped, and then stomped up to the dormitory. Lavender and Parvarti still aren't here; I suppose they're still out telling everyone about how Harry's a maniac. Dinner was awful tonight – gossip should be outlawed. At least Harry didn't get in trouble with Professor McGonagall.

Weekly Goals

1. Do not allow Weasley twins to continue exposing first-year students to untested products which could be hazardous to their healths, with or without Ron's help.

2. Do not allow Harry to lose his temper like that again.

3. Do not allow rumours about Harry to run rampant throughout school.

4. Do not allow Ron to deter me from setting house-elves free. Continue improving upon knitting skills.

5. Do not allow Umbridge's lack of teaching skills and Ministry-approved curriculum to impact my mark on the Defense Against the Dark Arts O.W.L. Figure out another way to gain Defense Against the Dark Arts knowledge and practice defensive spells.

6. Begin Arithmancy independent study assignment.


	3. Friday, 8 September

**Author's Notes: Sorry folks, real life's** been keeping me busy. Damn the ideal gas law and it's brethren, Charles' and Avogadro's laws of gases. No one cares about gases! Unless it's the kind that goes in my car, because I need some of that kind of gas, and why is it called gas anyways, when clearly it is propane, and not in a gaseous state at all? I love run-on sentences.

As always, thanks to Chibikat for beta-reading this for me, and to eliza for her amazing, always helpful constructive criticism.

Welcome to the FU fold, Allied-Inspiration!

Friday, 8 September

_12:21 p.m._

I've just had a very quick lunch and now I'm in the library. I told Ron and Harry that I had to look up something for my Arithmancy independent study assignment, but really I just wanted a moment to myself. I most certainly could not have gone to my dormitory; Parvati seems to have caught on that this book is a diary – journal – of some sort and she keeps asking me funny questions about it every time I take it out. Lavender still isn't speaking to me. Consequently, it's been a very peaceful week in the girls' dormitory.

I got mail from Viktor, and also from my parents this morning. Viktor said he was really sorry that I'm having a crummy first week of school, and his mother sent me some helpful hints on how to magically knit, which was very thoughtful. Mum and Dad said they're sorry that my Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher is a "horrible, rotten old hag" but that I shouldn't call people that and they're sure she's not that bad. Fat lot they know. Oh, and this part was priceless:

_Mrs. Crick is finally acting more like her old self, although that gentleman's spell still seems to have left some rather…peculiar after-effects. For example, she seems to have completely forgotten about you, Hermione. She looked downright puzzled last time we mentioned you, and inquired if we've always had a daughter._

I am going to have an excellent summer.

Harry came down for breakfast this morning, checked the Head Table as always and looked crestfallen at Hagrid's absence, then mumbled hello, grabbed a piece of toast, and ran off to finish those questions Professor Sprout gave us for homework before Herbology. I shook my head after him and made a disapproving noise, then turned back to Ron, who was pouring honey into his goblet.

"Ron, are you quite all right?" I asked, arching an eyebrow.

Ron gave a little jerk at the sound of his name then looked down to see what he was doing. He sighed, pushed his goblet of honey aside, then heaped some eggs onto his plate and stared at them. He checked his watch and sighed again.

"Aren't you going to eat?" I tried.

"Not hungry," Ron muttered, tapping his fingers on the table.

I arched an eyebrow. "Are you ill?"

Ron shifted in his seat, checked his watch again, and then started bouncing his right leg up and down. When he didn't answer me, I kicked him under the table.

"Ow!"

"Ron, what's wrong?" I demanded.

He chewed his lip then sighed. "Don't laugh."

"I won't," I promised.

"Well…tryouts for Gryffindor Keeper are tonight…you know, Keeper…the one who guards the - "

"I know who the Keeper is, Ron," I said impatiently. "So you're going to try out, then?"

"I know, it's a horrible idea and I don't have any talent anyways, I'm not going to go - " Ron said in a rush.

"Don't be silly, of course you should go!" I exclaimed.

Ron blinked. "You think so?" He suddenly frowned and stared at the floor. "Never mind, it's not like I stand a chance so why bother trying - "

"Nonsense! You'll never know unless you try!" I said encouragingly. "Besides, Ginny said you're quite good."

Ron brightened. "Yeah?" He suddenly frowned again. "Yeah, but what's Ginny know…"

"Quite a lot, actually. She said your brothers always had you Keep for them when you played at home."

"Well…that is true," Ron said with a hint of pride. "When did Ginny tell you all this?"

I sighed. "In case you haven't noticed, Ron, Ginny and I often talk. It's called conversation, perhaps you've heard of it?"

Ron rolled his eyes at me, but he looked somewhat happier and actually picked up his fork. "Well, I have been practicing every night this week," he muttered, ears turning red. "Mind you, I'm still rubbish, but…"

"You'll do fine. And Harry will be there to cheer you on - "

Ron suddenly slammed down his fork, looking grave. "No he won't. He has detention."

"Oh no, that's right, I'd forgotten - "

"Hermione," said Ron, who was suddenly looking sick again. "She's not just giving him lines."

"What? But Harry - "

"Have you ever heard of a Scar Quill?" Ron asked, looking disgusted.

Comprehension slowly dawned on me. "She's not…she wouldn't…" I said slowly, horrified.

"I saw it on the back of his hand last night," Ron said in a strangled voice. "It was cut into his hand and all…bloody…" He made a face of disgust and shook his head.

"What did it say?" I managed to ask, sickened.

"I must not tell lies."

"That evil, _evil_ woman," I whispered, revolted. "That disgusting, despicable…she can't possibly…it's against school rules, I know it is…she can't get away with inflicting physical harm on a student!" I slammed down my fork. "Harry has to go to Dumbledore, she can't get away with this!"

"He doesn't want to go to Dumbledore," Ron said wearily.

"McGonagall, then!"

"Hermione, you know Harry," Ron sighed. "He thinks it's his own private battle with Umbridge…if he complains, then she wins."

"There must be a rule against it, though," I said firmly.

"Well, look for one if you want, but I don't think it'll make a difference to Harry," Ron said. He shifted uncomfortably. "Don't…don't make a big deal about it though, all right? I don't think he wants people to know…"

"Not even me?" I asked, hurt that Harry would confide only in Ron.

"He probably wasn't going to tell me either," Ron replied hastily. "I just happened to notice it last night and I knew what it was right away…"

I picked up my fork, feeling slightly mollified, then frowned at my breakfast and put my fork down again. "Oh, it's no good…we have ten minutes before Herbology starts, I'm going to the library to look it up right now. It has to be against the rules!"

It's not.

It's ridiculous; they have the most specific rules against the most specific things. Students cannot be punished by being forced to walk on the ceilings upside down for a day…by being hung by their thumbs in the dungeons…by being transfigured into animals, insects, or inanimate objects (I had to wonder if that was added after the ferret incident in fourth year or if it was always there). But there was nothing about Scar Quills. It's a serious oversight in the rules, in my opinion, especially since Scar Quills were a popular form of punishment for students in the late nineteenth century…but of course, that can't possibly be acceptable today. I'd go to the headmaster if Harry wouldn't kill me for it.

Well, at least tonight's his last night of detentions.

True to my word, I didn't make a big deal about it to Harry. I didn't even tell him that Ron had said anything to me. At the end of Herbology, when Harry took off his gloves, I pretended to notice it and grabbed his hand to look at it. It had healed a lot since Ron saw it (wounds from Scar Quills heal fairly quickly, although the time it takes to heal lengthens with every time you use the quill), but you could still make out the words, shiny and pink on the back of his hand. I just gave him a pained look and then silently released his hand. Harry didn't say anything.

I had better go, lunch hour's almost over and Madam Pince is giving me queer looks, probably because this is my second visit to the library in one morning. Honestly, you'd think she'd be used to me by now.

_11:02 p.m._

I'm so exhausted but I had to quickly write down what Harry just told me. Oh, first thing's first – Ron made Keeper, despite his doubts and self-depreciation. He came bursting into the common room a little after eight o'clock, followed by the rest of the team and a few other hopefuls who shot Ron dark looks and then stalked off to their dormitories.

Ron looked around wildly, spotted me (I had just sat down after putting out a few more elf hats for the night), then let out a great whoop and yanked me out of my armchair.

"I did it, Hermione! I'm Keeper!" he shouted joyously, doing a little dance for joy. I tried not to laugh at his little dance for joy.

"Well done, Ron!" I exclaimed. "See, and you weren't even going to try out!"

"Yes, little bro, welcome to the ranks of the finest Quidditch team on earth," said George, slapping Ron on the back.

"Assuming, of course, that you get through initiation first," Fred said solemnly.

The huge grin on Ron's face disappeared for a moment, and he looked at the twins, puzzled. "What?"

"There are certain rituals - " began Fred.

"Rites of passage, if you will," added George.

" – that one must undergo before becoming a member of Hogwarts' most distinguished Quidditch team," Fred finished.

"Now, Ron," said George. "Just how many acid pops are you willing to eat to be on the Gryffindor Quidditch team?"

"What?!" said Ron, alarmed.

"You have to at least beat Katie's score of thirty-two to get in," said Fred seriously.

"Don't listen to them, Ron, they're pulling your leg," called Katie from the other side of the room.

"Alas! Foiled again," George said wistfully.

"Ah, well. Come, George. This grand achievement of dear Ronniekins' must be celebrated," Fred proclaimed. He and George left through the portrait hole only to re-appear half an hour later with Butterbeer for everyone. I had half a mind to lecture them (doubtless they broke about a hundred school rules in the process of obtaining said Butterbeer), but Ron looked so happy that I let it go. This time.

While Ron was excitedly relating to Ginny the finer details of his tryout, I sunk back into my armchair (with a mug of the illegally-obtained Butterbeer, I am ashamed to admit) and had just made up my mind to start knitting a few more hats (so I wouldn't have to stay up til one o'clock in the morning knitting furiously like last night) when a thought occurred to me. I really am happy for Ron, but now both he and Harry are going to have Quidditch practices all the time…and well, it's always been Ron and I cheering Harry on in the stands at games. Now that he's on the team too…it's silly, I know, but I couldn't help thinking about it, and I think that's when I dozed off.

I woke up a little while later at the sound of someone dropping their bag next to me. I looked up to see Harry. Embarrassed to be caught dozing, I explained that I was up late last night making hats, since they're disappearing really quickly now.

"Great," said Harry rather breathlessly. "Listen, I was just up in Umbridge's office and she touched my arm and my scar started hurting like mad. Then I felt this really queer feeling in my stomach. So I jumped away from her, then she said I could go so I left as fast as I could." He said all of this very fast, and then looked at me expectantly.

"You're worried You-Know-Who's controlling her like he controlled Quirrel?" I asked slowly.

"Well, it's a possibility, isn't it?" said Harry in a low voice.

Personally, I didn't think that was very likely. Voldemort has his own body now, why would he need Umbridge's? I suppose he could have Umbridge under the Imperius Curse, but I get the impression that she is acting completely of her own accord. Then again, trained Aurors have trouble identifying someone under Imperius…but as I told Harry, it may have just been coincidence that his scar hurt when Umbridge touched him. After all, last year it hurt when no one at all was around; I recall Dumbledore saying something about it having to do with Voldemort's emotions at the time. He has to talk to the headmaster, even if he doesn't mention the Scar Quill. He has to tell him about his scar hurting, it could be important!

"Harry," I tried, "I think you ought to tell Dumbledore your scar hurt."

"I'm not bothering him with this," Harry said stubbornly. "Like you said, it's not a big deal."

Obviously you think it is a big deal, Harry, or else you wouldn't have come running into the common room to tell someone about it. However, snapping at Harry doesn't usually work with him, so instead I just said, "Harry, I'm sure Dumbledore would want to be bothered by this - "

"Yeah," said Harry bitterly. "That's the only bit of me Dumbledore cares about, isn't it? My scar."

"Don't say that, it's not true!"

Harry said that he might write to Sirius about it instead, but I do hope he's careful if he's going to do something like that; Mad-Eye warned us about what we should put in letters, and with Umbridge around I think we have to be even more careful. If she or anyone else from the Ministry finds out where Sirius is hiding …

Harry promptly became irritable and announced that he was going to bed. Relieved that I could leave too without being rude, I went up to my own dormitory. Lavender and Parvati are still down in the common room, but I'm practically falling asleep and my writing's illegible. Ugh, I ramble far too much; I was supposed to write about Harry's scar and then get some sleep but then I went off on a tangent about Ron and the twins…I have to learn to focus.

But now I have to sleep. I'll learn to focus later.


	4. Saturday, 9 September

**Author's Notes:** I apologize for the lack of updates. I know none of you care to hear about the massive amounts of work I have to do, or how Calculus and Chemisty are slowly draining me of life energy like some sort of soul-sucking entities, so I won't go on about it. ^_^

I know this chapter isn't very long, and therefore a pretty pathetic update after so long without an update, and I apologize. It was fun to write, though. Enjoy.

Though she didn't ask, I'd like to induct R/H fan into the FU, if that's quite all right with her, for her amazing and long review, and for pointing out the hilarity that would be "Neville Longass". I'd also like to welcome poetesse, Caitlin, and Superfluousredundancy to the humble ranks of the FU, too! (It rhymes…we should have a Welcome-to-the-FU song that ends with a line like, 'Now you are in the FU, too!' and sounds curiously, in my head, like the line from that song that goes, 'We're going to make it after aaaall!' Yeah.)

Saturday, 9 September

_10:09 a.m._

I'm just taking a five minute break from homework. I read a few days ago in _Surviving the O.W.L.'s_ that the most effective way to tackle schoolwork and/or studying is in forty-five minute working periods, with five minute breaks every forty-five minutes. After three forty-five minute periods with subsequent five minute breaks, you should take a half hour break, and then go back to five minute breaks. It works really well, because in the five minute breaks your mind gets to rest and properly absorb all the information you've just studied. But the breaks aren't so long that you get completely out of your studying mentality or forget everything you've just read.

It would be nice to share these useful tips with someone other than my journal, but Ron and Harry have decided that Quidditch is far more important than the pursuit of learning and their future careers, so there you are.

This morning was our first prefect's meeting! I hadn't been to the prefect's lounge yet, and it's marvelous. They have these very interesting tapestries all around the room, depicting the lives of famous former Hogwarts prefects. Quite a few of them have become Minister for Magic. I pointed this out to Ron, but then he mumbled something about me sounding like Percy, so I dropped it quickly.

There's a large fireplace, dozens of comfortable chairs, and a few tables to work at in the lounge. Rob told us that they used to have a cupboard in there which, when you opened it, would magically have a fresh goblet of hot chocolate or pumpkin juice or coffee or whatever you wanted waiting for you. But apparently there was an incident a few years ago where someone tripped on the rug and spilled hot chocolate all over someone else's front; the second person was in so much pain that they hopped backwards into the fireplace and their robes caught fire. So Madam Pomfrey decided the cupboard was a fire hazard and took it away ("Bugger," Ron said longingly).

"I don't see what all the fuss was about," Pansy Parkinson said with distaste to Malfoy before the meeting started. "Our common room is far nicer than this."

_Good,_ I thought, _maybe they'll avoid coming here. In fact, perhaps they'll stop coming to meetings and will sit in their wonderful and amazing common room instead. That would be lovely._

"Well, some people aren't fortunate enough to be in Slytherin, you know. I'm sure this is the most elegant room Weasley'sever been in," Malfoy sneered.

Prat. At least Ron was too busy staring at a Muggle grandfather's clock in the corner (I think he was trying to figure out why there were only two hands and some numbers on it) to hear him.

The meeting was fine; we all had to sign up for who will supervise and walk with the third-years at each Hogsmeade visit this year, and then talk about any problems we've had so far. Padma Patil whined for about twenty minutes about some second-years who "threatened" her when she told them off for roughhousing in the corridors. Please. The highlight of the meeting was Rob telling Malfoy off for giving a first-year Hufflepuff detention for walking too slowly in the corridors.

Afterwards Ron and I went to breakfast, and Harry, looking mysteriously overjoyed for some reason, joined us a few moments later. I quickly skimmed the front page of the paper as soon as it was delivered, and there wasn't anything of interest.

However, inside there was an article about Sirius.

It basically said that the Ministry received a tip-off from a reliable source (read: dirty rotten Malfoy's father) that Sirius was currently residing in London. I knew he shouldn't have come to King's Cross that day! Dumbledore did warn him. Well, now Sirius will never be able to go out again. I do hope he stays indoors and does as he's told from now on, for his own good.

There was also a very small, very suspicious article about Sturgis Podmore. Apparently he was caught trying to force his way through a door at the Ministry at one o'clock in the morning, and he's been sent to Azkaban for six months! What on earth was he doing there at one in the morning, trying to get through a door? I mean, he is (was?) in the Order, is he mad?

"It could be a frame-up!" Ron said, loud enough for the entire school to hear. I shot him a look, and he lowered his voice dramatically. "The Ministry suspects he's one of Dumbledore's lot so – I dunno – they lured him to the Ministry, and he wasn't trying to get through a door at all! Maybe they've just made something up to get him!"

You know, Ron is very intelligent when he wants to be. As far-fetched as the above sounds, it wouldn't surprise me. If only Ron spent Saturday mornings doing his homework like he should be instead of flying around the Quidditch pitch, he could perhaps go somewhere in life.

Oh, dear. I'm afraid I've gone way over five minutes of break. What do I do now – compensate by going ninety minute without a break, or continue as planned? Where did _Surviving__ the O.W.L.'s_ go?

_??? p.m.…possibly already a.m. Sunday…not sure…_

Ruddy Percy…stupid Sirius…

Oh too tired to explain…sleep now…


	5. Monday, 11 September

**Author's Notes:** Holy crap, an update. Just when you'd all given up on me. Now that midterms are over and exams aren't for a little while, I have somewhat of a break so I'll try to do some writing. ^_^

Thanks to everyone who pointed out that first-years don't go to Hogsmeade, duh. I corrected it. ^_^ If you guys ever find anything wacky like that in here, please let me know. To be perfectly honest I haven't thoroughly read OotP in it's entirety since the summer and I'm too lazy to do so again, so I'm relying on memory a lot of the time for canonical stuff.

Congrats to new FU members Chica890, Penelope Richmond, lavalampronsgirl (hehe, I sat there for like five minutes going 'what the hell's a lavalampron?'…I am an idiot), and thanks to Agarwaen Lhach for the awesome FU poem.

Monday, 11 September

_9:09 a.m., History of Magic_

Now I know I really should be taking notes, but I did some reading just for interest's sake on the Hundred and Thirty-Two Years' War (goblins are evidently extremely creative with naming their wars) this summer so really I'm not gaining anything by taking notes from Professor Binns. And, well…I would never admit it to Harry and Ron, but Professor Binns is dreadfully dull sometimes…as long as one has already done in-depth reading on the material, they should be able to get away with not taking notes for one class. At least I am half-listening, unlike Harry and Ron, who are playing Hangman. If I do hear Professor Binns say something I wasn't previously aware of, I will be sure to write it down. Now then, what happened the other night was…

_9:15 a.m._

Hm. I don't remember reading that Gruntfeld the Great was killed by his right hand man in an argument over food. Anyway, Ron got this awful letter from Percy…it was just so incredibly rude and condescending and argh! As if Ron would stop being friends with Harry! But then Ron tore the letter to shreds and chucked it in the fire, ha. Oh, the books I read didn't cover the Battle of the Berg in very much detail…

_9:34 a.m._

So I felt rather bad for Ron…what with having the world's most obnoxious brother…and offered to correct his and Harry's essays. I realize this directly contradicts Goal for the School Year #4, but it was a special circumstance as they both looked rather put out by Percy's idiocy. Just as I had finished correcting Harry's essay, however, I happened to notice that he was on his hands and knees poking about the fire. I thought this rather odd, until a few seconds later, when whose head should appear in the fire but…Wimple the Wizened? I don't recall who that is…

_9:40 a.m._

Anyway, Sirius's head was in the fire. He'd (quite foolishly) been popping in and out all night, waiting to get us alone in the common room so he could talk to Harry about his scar. I guess Harry did send him a letter and forgot to tell us; I really wish he had shown the letter to me before sending it off though, because even the tiniest thing could give loads away if it was intercepted. Sirius seemed to think it was normal for Harry's scar to be hurting, and he agreed that it probably had nothing to do with Umbridge. I still think Harry should speak to the headmaster, but he's still being stubborn and refuses. I was hoping Sirius would tell Harry to go to Dumbledore because Harry actually listens to him, but he didn't.

Sirius didn't have any news about Hagrid, either. But he did tell us that the reason we're sitting around reading from that rubbish textbook in Defense Against the Dark Arts (I finally got through the entire thing…Slinkhard is a narrow-minded idiot) is because Fudge doesn't want us 'trained in combat'. Trained in combat! He thinks Dumbledore's forming some sort of…army or something to overthrow the Ministry…of all the ludicrous…

_9:43 a.m._

I had no idea that the Hundred and Thirty-Two Years' War only lasted one hundred and twenty-seven years. Why on earth did they name it that, then? Anyway, Sirius left in a huff because we refused to let him risk his neck by coming to the next Hogsmeade weekend as Padfoot. Honestly, Harry's finally thinking level-headedly and Sirius had to go and act all bitter and insulted and make him feel horrible.

_9:46 a.m._

Why does Ron always guess the most ridiculous letters in Hangman? How many words have x's in them? He hasn't even tried all the vowels yet.

Percy had mentioned in his (stupid) letter that there would be something of importance in the _Daily Prophet _this morning, and sure enough, there it was in block letters on the front page: MINISTRY SEEKS EDUCATIONAL REFORM: DOLORES UMBRIDGE APPOINTED FIRST EVER HOGWARTS HIGH INQUISITOR.

The article was written in the usual _Daily Prophet_ style ('Umbridge' and 'totally revolutionizing the teaching of Defense Against the Dark Arts' appeared in the same sentence). They used every opportunity to knock Hogwarts and Dumbledore. They even managed to get a quote from Lucius Malfoy (speaking from his Wiltshire mansion…oh please). What a reliable and completely unbiased source (sarcasm). Oh great, now Harry's guessing x's too…

_9:50 a.m._

Oh. The word was elixir. Well.

So due to Educational Piece of Rubbish Number Twenty-Three or something of that sort, Umbridge is now Hogwarts High Inquisitor, which means she has the power to "inspect her fellow educators and make sure they're up to scratch". We also found out that the only reason we got stuck with her in the first place is because the Ministry passed another decree before school started stating that if Dumbledore couldn't find someone for a position, the Ministry would appoint someone "suitable". So we got Umbridge, and to make matters worse, she's now Hogwarts "High Inquisitor". In other words, her new position is another excuse for the Ministry to interfere at Hogwarts and make sure we aren't forming a secret military resistance against them. Speaking of military resistance…

_9:55 a.m._

Professor Binns was making a good point about the unconventional military tactics of Gruntfeld. Anyway, the _Daily Prophet_ also managed to insult Lupin, Moody, and Madam Marchbanks (who resigned from the Wizengamot in protest over Umbridge's appointment, good for her!) as well as Dumbledore - that must be some sort of insult record. I lowered the paper after reading it aloud at breakfast and stared at Harry and Ron, absolutely livid.

"So now we know how we ended up with Umbridge! Fudge passed this Educational Decree and forced her on us! And now he's given her the power to inspect the other teachers! I can't believe this! It's outrageous!" I exclaimed.

Ron, however, was grinning wildly. "What?" demanded Harry and I.

"Oh, I can't wait to see McGonagall inspected," Ron said gleefully. "Umbridge won't know what's hit her."

Actually, that will be interesting…

I wonder when Umbridge will begin inspections; she's obviously not in this class, but perhaps Potions? I hope Harry keeps his head on his shoulders today, it wouldn't do at all for Umbridge to see him botch a potion and be insulted by Snape on top of everything else.

Harry's Hangman phrase was just "Umbridge is a hag". Ron guessed it with only the 'u' and the 'h'. Immature, perhaps, but true nonetheless.

  
There's the bell…I can't believe I spent an entire class writing in here. It really is a waste of time and energy and somewhere Mrs. Crick is gloating, even though currently she does not remember who I am.

_10:08 p.m._

Oh no!!! Rosie McDowell in sixth-year just told me there was loads on her History of Magic OWL last year that dealt with the Hundred and Thirty-Two Years' War, and I spent the entire class writing in this stupid journal!

I will not panic. I'm sure someone else in class took very detailed notes and I can ask to borrow theirs. I'm sure Dean took notes…well, maybe Neville did…or Parvati might have jotted some things down…oh who am I kidding, they're all going to fail and so am I!!!

_10:36 p.m._

Knitting is really a great stress reliever. I am not going to fail the History of Magic OWL and neither is anyone else.

_10:39 p.m._

But we're all definitely going to fail Defense Against the Dark Arts. Argh. Hate Umbridge.

Weekly Goals

1. Get Umbridge sacked? No, probably impossible. Get everyone to burn Slinkhard textbooks so we'll have nothing to read and she may have to actually let us learn? No, random acts of arson will prove nothing and waste paper. Get twins to set off Dungbombs in Umbridge's – NO, definitely not.

Continue trying to figure out another way to gain Defense Against the Dark Arts knowledge and practice defensive spells without having teacher sacked or resorting to arson and/or Fred and George.

2. Figure out way to stop Harry from speaking out in Defense Against the Dark Arts and getting more detentions. Perform _Silencio_ on him before every class?

3. Figure out way to stop Sirius from doing stupid and reckless things.

4. Continue knitting hats for house-elves as they are a huge success!

5. Do extra reading on Hundred and Thirty-Two Years' War. Maybe Rosie or another sixth-year still have their fifth-year notes…

6. Achieve 'O' on next Potions essay.


	6. Monday, 18 September

**Author's Notes:** Hey all, just when you'd given up on me ever updating again…an update, huzzah! I'm done school so I actually have a little bit of free time between working, so hopefully you'll see a bunch of new chapters in the next few weeks. That's all I really have to say because it's 1 a.m. and I have to be up at 8 tomorrow morning.

Welcome to the FU SarcasmSage, and thanks for the poem! Also big FU welcome to gonzogirl, Leanah, and Len (P.S. I love your stories!).

By the way, just for all of you who may or may not be wondering…the FU is not like, some sort of real organization or anything. I don't send out a welcome package and a bumper sticker, although that would be super sweet. I didn't even make up the FU. I just randomly grant admittance to anyone who asks to be part of Fangirls/boys United. And I don't kick you out if you don't review every chapter or anything. It's just a state of being, huzzah!

FUcon 20??…happening someday in the very distant future.

Monday, 18 September

_8:57 p.m._

It's been one of those dreadful days where it's poured rain outside all day, and of course we had to have double Care of Magical Creatures today so we all got soaking wet, and now Ron and Harry have Quidditch practice so they're probably getting soaked to the bone. I should have done the rain-repellant charm for them before they left. Anyways, the common room is rather crowded so I came up to bed early. The dorm was empty (Parvati and Lavender weren't in the common room either…I think they went off somewhere with Dean and Seamus, ugh…insert rolling of the eyes here) and it was still pouring rain outside, so I climbed into bed with the house-elf socks I was working on. Parvati and Lavender still aren't back and it's all warm and cozy and lovely with the sound of the rain outside hammering on the windows.

While I was knitting I realized that I haven't written in here for a whole week, so I went to find my journal. It was lying in a suspiciously different spot than the one I left it in. Note to self: tell off Parvati and/or Lavender.

Let's see, I last wrote in here…it must have been last Monday. I was still worried about the Defense Against the Dark Arts OWL the next day, but something even more important dawned on me while Ron and I were waiting in the common room for Harry to get back from detention on Tuesday. The Ministry thinks Dumbledore's building some sort of army…and while that isn't true, the fact that we aren't getting a proper defensive magical education leaves us almost completely helpless. I decided it was time we took things into our own hands. Voldemort has returned, and the Ministry in its idiocy is leaving us all completely and utterly defenseless. If Harry could be attacked by Dementors in the Muggle suburbs, then none of us are really safe. Had Harry not been able to produce a Patronus, he would have been…well…you know. I can't produce a Patronus…

And that's when it hit me…Harry!

"Harry!" I said out loud in a burst of inspiration, accidentally knocking Ron's ink well over with my elbow.

"Yes, Hermione, we are waiting for Harry," Ron said wryly, trying to mop up the mess with his Potions essay. He swore when he realized what he was doing.

"No, no," I said impatiently. "I mean, we need to do something about Umbridge - "

"Poison?" Ron suggested.

"Well yes, that would…I mean no," I said exasperatedly. "I mean we have to do something about our Defense Against the Dark Arts education, or lack thereof…"

Just then Harry came in, looking exhausted. His hand was bleeding profusely. I quickly gave him the bowl of Murtlap tentacles that I'd prepared for him and he gratefully stuck his hand into it. His hand was in the worst shape I've seen it yet. Ron anxiously suggested again that Harry complain, but predictably, Harry staunchly refused.

"She's an awful woman," I said quietly as I stared at the cut on Harry's hand. "You know, I was just saying to Ron when you came in…we've got to do something about her."

And so, I shared my newly-formed idea. Harry knows more about Defense Against the Dark Arts than all of us combined; he's fended off giant spiders, a Basilisk, and Dementors, managed to win a very highly advanced tournament for seventeen-year-olds and above when he was only fourteen, not to mention he's encountered Voldemort, in various incarnations, four times now and lived.

Ron and I listed most of these off…we didn't mean to patronize Harry or tease him or anything like that, we were just trying to show him all the amazing things he's accomplished…and, well, Harry sort of took it the wrong way.

"Don't sit there grinning like you know better than I do," Harry snapped. "I was there, wasn't I? I know what went on, all right? And I didn't get through any of that because I was brilliant at Defense Against the Dark Arts, I got through it all because help came at the right time or because I guessed right…but I just blundered through it all, I didn't have a clue what I was doing…STOP LAUGHING!"

And it all went downhill from there.

But…and I feel this is rather important…I said it. I finally said Voldemort's name. It was hard at first, because of all the things that have been implanted in my mind by the wizarding world over the years about using that name, but after I said it I felt so much better. It was like saying his name and getting it out there made him a person, not this vague, shadowy, omnipotent thing that can't be defeated. He's human…or at least was human, at some point…and therefore should have a name. None of this stupid You-Know-Who business any more. Getting rid of this ridiculous fear surrounding his name is the first step if we're going to defeat him.

It ended with Harry calming down slightly and agreeing to at least think about it. I haven't broached the subject since, but I think he's slowly starting to entertain the idea. I'll just give him his space for a little while, maybe talk to a few people to see if they'd be interested in learning from him…I'm sure if Harry knew people are really willing to listen to and learn from him, he'll seriously consider it.

I sent a letter to Viktor about it right after the incident and he responded more quickly than usual. First of all, it seems that the Quidditch tournament (or exhibition, or whatever it was called) that Viktor's team was supposed to play here in England was cancelled due to "bad international relations" with England. Viktor said it was because the Bulgarian Minister is angry with Fudge! Apparently he doesn't agree with the way the Ministry of Magic is currently being run here in England. Viktor mentioned that the Bulgarian Minister is an old friend of Dumbledore's. I didn't even think of the possibility of other countries helping us in the fight against Voldemort…it's good to know that there are whole governments backing up Dumbledore. On the negative side, Viktor no longer gets to come to England, and I won't be able to see him. Well, I suppose it's a good thing I never mentioned it to Ron…

As for Harry teaching us Defense Against the Dark Arts, Viktor thought it was a great idea. He's always said that Harry knew loads of stuff last year that Viktor hadn't even learned in seventh year at Durmstrang…oh, I think Lavender and Parvati are coming back, I'd better put this away…

_11:24 p.m._

Well. I wasn't expecting that. I think Lavender and Parvati are asleep now, so it's safe to write in here again.

I heard the two of them approaching so I shoved my journal under my blankets and took out my elf socks, putting on an irritated look. I expected them to come in giggling about Dean and/or Seamus and/or that sixth-year Hufflepuff whom they seem to think is some sort of god, and I was planning to give them a good telling off for going through my things. But when they walked in they were both talking quietly and Lavender was very pale. I cleared my throat and they both jumped.

"Hermione!" Lavender exclaimed, and her voice sounded sort of shaky.

"Hello," I said coolly. Lavender and I have not exactly been on friendly terms since her comments on the first day of school.

Then something very odd happened. Lavender burst into tears.

"Oh, Lav," Parvarti said soothingly, putting an arm around her friend.

"What's wrong, Lavender?" I said uncertainly, sliding out of bed and walking over to them. Lavender hiccupped loudly.

"I – I saw!" she cried.

"Saw what?" I asked apprehensively.

"Harry," Parvati said heavily, as if that explained everything.

"Oh. Well," said I, thinking that even if Harry had been soaking wet after his Quidditch practice and looked like a drowned rat, that still wasn't any reason for Lavender to cry.

"His – his hand," Lavender explained, sniffling. "We got back into the common room just now, and then him and Ron came in from Quidditch and I noticed…I noticed Harry's hand…oh, is she doing that to him every night?"

Something icy had settled in the pit of my stomach, but I also couldn't help but feel an odd sense of satisfaction. I nodded.

Parvati shuddered. "It looked awful," she said in a hushed voice.

  
"You-Know-Who really is back, isn't he Hermione?" Lavender whispered. "Harry wouldn't say those things in her class…and have to go through that as punishment…if they weren't true, if he just wanted attention…" She looked at me with wide eyes, all red-rimmed from crying. "So it's true, then? Cedric Diggory really did…I mean…You-Know-Who…" she trailed off. I nodded numbly again.

"I'm so sorry, Hermione," Lavender said sincerely. "I'm sorry that I didn't believe you and Harry and for everything I said at the beginning of the year."

  
This took me off guard. First I get an apology from Ron earlier this year, then Lavender? Has the world gone mad? But of course I didn't say that out loud.

"It's okay," I said. I'm not really a hug person, especially with Parvati and Lavender, but I gave Lavender a hug anyways. Lavender thanked me and then the two of them decided to go to bed.

"Wait…" I said slowly. "You two wouldn't be interested in…well, hearing what Harry has to say, would you?"

I do hope Harry reconsiders and agrees to this.

Weekly Goals

1. Talk to Harry about teaching us Defense again. Try not to have this encounter end in shouting and/or tears.

2. Ask around, get a feel of who would possibly be interested in taking lessons from Harry…I'm sure most of the Gryffindors, save Seamus, would…Ginny, and maybe she could convince Michael and his Ravenclaw friends…maybe Cho Chang, what with what happened to Cedric, and she seems rather fond of Harry…there's a few Hufflepuffs who I could talk to…

3. Continue liberating house elves through hats, socks, and accessories.

4. Write back to Viktor.

5. Work on Arithmancy independent study assignment.


	7. Tuesday, 19 September

**Author's Notes:** Yay! I have been told that September 19th is Hermione's birthday, and I know there's a debate about whether she is turning fifteen or sixteen, but for the purposes of this story, she is turning fifteen.

If R/H was sugar and each chapter was a different food, this one's a pixie stick. It didn't start out as being very R/Hish, but it sort of turned out that way. I haven't really focused on it in awhile, so I figured it was okay. You have been warned.

Congrats to new FU members Thom Verdace, Cajun Rogue, Thorn of Blood, Amerikus, and Wiccan Pussykat. Your super long reviews and poems rocked my world. We should all aspire to that kind of greatness. By the way, I totally realize the FU thing said out loud. That was the whole reason for naming it the FU.

Tuesday, 19 September

_7:12 a.m._

I am fifteen years old.

I, Hermione Granger, am fifteen years old.

I am no longer fourteen years old, but fifteen years old.

I am now five years away from being twenty years old.

I still don't feel any older.

I can't believe I nearly forgot my own birthday. It was the last thing on my mind yesterday, and I didn't even realize it until I woke up this morning and noticed the date on Parvati's Weird Sisters calendar matched the date of my birth. What kind of a person forgets their own birthday? Mrs. Crick would probably go into some detailed explanation involving my subconscious fear of maturity and accepting the responsibilities that come with my fast-approaching adulthood, but since it is my birthday I really don't want to think about Mrs. Crick.

I should probably get dressed and ready for the day and so on. Hmm, perhaps by turning fifteen I have miraculously grown out of bushy hair…

_7:26 a.m._

Nope.

_8:37 p.m._

This has actually been one of the best birthdays I've ever had! First of all, this morning all of the elf socks and hats I left in the common room were gone again! I've lost count of the number of house elves I must have already set free!

Ron, Harry, and Ginny were waiting for me in the common room this morning. "Happy birthday, Hermione!" Harry said with a smile.

"Thanks! Actually, I completely forgot this morning," I admitted.

"You forgot your own birthday?" Ron asked, aghast. "How did you forget your own birthday?!"

"Well Ron, I'm subconsciously afraid of maturity," I muttered sarcastically.

Ron knitted his eyebrows together. "What?"

"Never mind."

"You have to open my present first," Ginny insisted, holding out a brightly-wrapped package.

"Oh," I said, blushing, "you all didn't have to get me anything - "

"Oh bollocks, you say that every year. Just open it," Ginny grinned.

Ginny had found this really neat wooden picture frame, which changes shades and types of wood occasionally. This morning it looked like oak, and this afternoon it looked like maple. She put a photograph of her and me at the Burrow last year in it. Surprisingly, it's a very good picture (I am the most unphotogenic person in the world…hmm, unphotogenic may or may not be a word). We're sitting at the kitchen table laughing about something, and neither of us realize someone is taking our picture so it looks very natural. Maybe I only look horrible in other photographs because I always pose for them, and even in wizard pictures I usually just stand there with a fake smile plastered on my face. I can't even remember anyone taking this picture. Maybe it was the twins, when they went through that embarrassing-photo-taking stage.

Harry got me a book entitled _Now__ What? A Hogwarts Student's Guide to Life After OWL's. _Ron thought the title was very funny, but it's actually a very useful book about which courses and which NEWT's to take, depending on the field you want to pursue career-wise.

I gave Harry and Ginny quick hugs, and we were about to go down to breakfast when Ginny said, "Just a second, what about Ron's present?"

Ron turned red. "I…left it in my room," he muttered.

"Well, go get it, then," Ginny said impatiently, hands on her hips.

"I'll give it to her later," Ron hissed.

Just then, there was a tap at the window. All three of us looked up to see Viktor's owl, Dragomir, waiting patiently at the window.

"Whose owl is that?" Ron asked immediately.

I walked over to the window to let Dragomir in. "Why don't you guys go down to breakfast? I'll meet you in the Great Hall."

"Whose owl is that?" Ron demanded again.

"Why won't you give Hermione her present, Ron?" Ginny asked sweetly.

Ron glowered at her. "See you at breakfast," he grumbled, following Ginny and Harry out of the portrait hole.

I took the parcel from Dragomir's leg and he immediately flew off again. Poor thing, he was just here a few days ago and he must be exhausted. He didn't even go to the Owlery to rest…anyway, there was a letter from Viktor wishing me a happy birthday, which was very sweet, and then a present.

It's such a thoughtful and neat present…it's a watch, but it's a wizard's watch, of course. It's sort of like the clock in Ron's house, the one with all the Weasley's on it, except there's only one hand on my watch and it represents me. On the outside of the watch, where there's usually numbers there's the names of my classes in tiny gold lettering – Potions, Herbology, Astronomy, etc. Then where the twelve should be it says "Relax!". I have no idea where Viktor found the watch, or if he charmed it himself to adhere to my schedule, but it is one of the neatest presents I've ever gotten and I'm going to send him a letter as soon as I'm finished writing in here to thank him and tell him how thoughtful it was. The watch works perfectly too; when it was time for class the hand immediately moved and pointed towards the class I had to go to, and between classes and at meals it pointed to "Relax!". I showed it to Ginny later and she ooohed and ahhhed about it for a good half hour. Harry and Ron haven't noticed that I'm wearing a new watch. I have a theory that as boys become older, their observational skills deteriorate. 

At breakfast, another owl came in with a card from my parents wishing me a happy birthday. When I opened the card, however, a small piece of paper fell out of it. It was a cutting from a Muggle magazine.

"Oh!" I exclaimed in delight. It was a picture of a lovely, Queen-size bed.

Ron glanced over my shoulder. "Your parents got you a picture of a bed for your birthday?" he said skeptically through a mouth full of toast. 

"No silly, they bought me the bed!" I said. "I've been wanting a new bed for ages!"

"Yeah, your old one was kind of small," Ron agreed absently.

Harry choked on his pumpkin juice and started shaking with silent laughter.

Ron and I spent the remainder of breakfast avoiding making eye contact with anyone, particularly each other. He must have noticed when he came to get me this summer, but it just came out sounding all wrong…

A lot of people, even people I don't really know all that well, wished me happy birthday today! Lavender and Parvati remembered, which is a first. Ginny's boyfriend Michael wished me a happy birthday, as well as the Ravenclaws in my Arithmancy class and a lot of the other prefects. Even Luna Lovegood said happy birthday, which was strange, because she strikes me as the type of person who would forget her own age, never mind remember someone else's birthday. Oh and Rob, the Head Boy, passed Harry, Ron and I in the halls on our way to Potions. He wished me a happy birthday and winked as he walked by. Ron scowled at him.

"Bighead boy," I swear I heard him mumble as we walked down to Potions.

I also got back my Transfiguration essay and an Arithmancy assignment today, and I got O's on both of them! Even Potions wasn't all that bad today; Snape couldn't ignore the fact that half the Slytherins completely ruined their potions by accidentally adding eye of newt instead of essence of newt. They were too busy gossiping to listen when Snape was giving instructions.

Ha, and then right after Potions, I think Malfoy was bitter about messing up his potion (though it was his own fault) and decided to take it out on us as we were leaving.

"Hey Weasel, found a broom to ride on the Quidditch pitch yet?" he jeered. "Or are you going to be riding something your father found in a Mudblood's closet?"

I was still in a very good mood due to birthday elation and all, so I spun around and said very sweetly, "Hey Malfoy! Shut up!"

I then walked away triumphantly. Ron and Harry sort of stared after me in shock for a few seconds, then hurried after me and fell into step beside me, grinning wildly.

Tally for the year thus far is currently at Us 18; Malfoy 16.

No one must ever know I am keeping track.

Hmm, Ron never did give me his present…not that I care…

_10:45 p.m._

Lavender and Parvati are extremely silly sometimes.

So I went down to the common room, just to see if Ron and Harry were there, and if Ron was there and just happened to give me his present, so be it. Ron and Ginny were down there, but not Harry, who had gone to bed early for a change. The three of us chatted for awhile as I worked on my knitting and Ron feverishly worked on the Herbology assignment that is due tomorrow. Ginny decided to go to bed around 10:00, and then it was just Ron and I. We talked about our hatred for Umbridge for awhile, which is always a fun topic, and then Ron abruptly asked, "So did you have a good birthday?"

"Yes," I said decidedly. "Yes, I did."

"You told Malfoy off pretty good today," Ron said with a hint of admiration. I was going to correct his improper grammar, but I figured I should just take the compliment, so I said, "Thanks."

"Er…here," Ron suddenly said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a clumsily wrapped package. He shoved it into my hand. "Happy birthday."

"Oh, thank you!" I said in the tone of one who had completely forgotten that Ron still had to give me his present.

I unwrapped the package, and it was a bracelet. Now it was very thoughtful but…well, it's very…colourful…and…well, to be quite honest, it looks rather gaudy. Firstly, I don't wear jewelry so I don't know what Ron was thinking, and secondly, this bracelet looks like something even Professor Trelawney would frown upon. It's multi-coloured with these large glass stones of varying shapes set in it, and it's very thick and…well… gaudy.

"Oh…it's…very nice, thank you Ron," I said politely.

"You hate it," Ron said, beginning to turn red.

"Of course I don't hate it!" I exclaimed.

Ron looked skeptical. "So…it's okay?"

"Yes, it's very nice," I lied.

I thanked him again and then said goodnight, since it was getting quite late. Lavender and Parvati were already in the dormitory when I came up.

"Oooh, birthday present?" Parvati asked immediately, spotting the bracelet I was holding (and planning on putting away in my drawer, never to be seen again…I do hope I won't hurt Ron's feelings if I don't wear it…maybe I can tell him I'm saving it for special occasions…)

"Well, yes, but - " Before I could hide the dreadful thing, Lavender and Parvati had pounced and were inspecting it.

"Ugh," Lavender said, wrinkling her nose and holding the bracelet out in front of her as if it was infected with something. "Who bought you this?"

"Ron," I said, suddenly feeling defensive. I immediately wished I hadn't answered.

"Ohhhhh," the girls both said, and then started inspecting the bracelet in an entirely different light. They both looked at it very seriously for a few moments, turning it over slowly and talking amongst themselves in hushed voices. I felt like asking if either of them needed a scalpel.

"Well," said Lavender finally, a grave look on her face.

"It's clear he doesn't have a clue," Parvati stated.

"You wouldn't be caught dead wearing this."

"No one would."

"But he still bought it."

"Because he's a boy, and he's clueless."

They both giggled. 

"May I put it away now, never to be seen again?" I asked in a bored voice.

"Hermione," said Lavender exasperatedly. "Jewelry is not the sort of present one buys for a friend. He may not have a clue but he's trying."

"Trying what?" I asked with a sigh.

"Hermione, what did Harry buy you for your birthday?" Parvati asked slowly, as if she was talking to a small child.

"A book."

"Mmmhmm. Now what did Ron buy you?"

I sighed. "You don't seriously expect me to answer that, do you?"

"Harry bought you a book. Ron bought you jewelry. Very ugly jewelry, but the poor boy tried," Lavender said with a sigh.

I stared at them blankly.

"Hermione, we've been saying it forever…Ron fancies you!" Parvati finally exclaimed exasperatedly.

"And I've been saying forever, that's bollocks. You two think everyone fancies everyone. Can I go to bed now?" I asked irritably. But a funny feeling was starting to develop in the pit of my stomach and it still hasn't gone away…

"Hermione, this is indisputable evidence," Lavender said seriously, holding up the bracelet. I snatched it away from her and put it away.

"Fine," Parvati sighed, flopping onto her bed. "Just wait 'til we get to say I told you so."

The two of them stayed up talking for awhile after that so I closed the curtains around my bed and started writing in here again. Honestly, the two of them…

_11:22 p.m._

That feeling in my stomach still hasn't gone away. And they're right, Ron's never bought me anything like that before. Oh no, and he thought I hated it! What will he think if I don't wear it? What will he think if I do wear it? Why didn't he want to give it to me in front of everyone else? What if…sometimes Lavender and Parvati are right about these sort of things…

NO. I am in serious violation of Goal for the School Year #10. I am going to go to sleep right now.

_11:26 p.m._

But now I'm ending my birthday on a bad note. Hmm, let's see…

New bed! I told Malfoy off! O's on my assignments! Hurrah!

That's better.


	8. Monday, 25 September

**Author's Notes:** It's been awhile…hey, that's a song. Whaddya know. It's also 1:30 a.m. and I have to work at 8 a.m. tomorrow. But hey, this is important – I WROTE A CHAPTER! That's right, a chapter. And this is it. Huzzah.

I sometimes find myself running out of fresh and creative ways to approach Order of the Phoenix, but then something will happen to me in my day-to-day activities and for some reason I'll get a brilliant idea for this fic…but the idea is for something that occurs at the end of Order of the Phoenix. Ain't that always the way. We're still in September. This may take awhile.

I think the thing that is screwing me over is the Weekly Goals. I have to do an entry at least once per week, on a Monday just for Weekly Goals. What I may end up doing is, as the year wears on and Hermione becomes "busier", she may change it to Monthly Goals or just write her Weekly Goals and no entry every Monday. Hope this doesn't offend or upset anyone. It's for the sake of my sanity, and yours.

Congratulations are in order for crazzd pixie and LJ Fan (thanks for the song!), newest FU members. Anyone who requested FU membership in an Omelet of Desire review shall be granted said membership in the next chapter of Omelet of Desire, coming soon!

Man, my Author's Notes are longer than the chapter sometimes. vv

Monday, 25 September

_12:19 a.m._

He agreed!

Harry finally agreed to maybe, possibly, perhaps consider simply "meeting up with" a few people who may be interested in what he has to say regarding Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Well, it's better than nothing.

Ron and I both think that once Harry sees how many people do not, in fact, think he is a nutter and show genuine interest in his knowledge and in what he has to say, he'll agree to teach us. This is so exciting! I know we can't be in the Order, and unlike Ron and Harry and the twins I don't have any false hopes of Dumbledore and Ron's parents randomly changing their minds and allowing us to join because in first year we managed to defeat a giant chess set. But by doing this it's as if we're fighting back against Voldemort and the Ministry in our own little way, by learning to defend ourselves, and by being prepared.

However, there is a huge problem with all of this, and its name is Umbridge.

I've checked the school rules, and there is nothing prohibiting study groups or homework groups. But I also don't think it's wise if we parade what we're doing. I'm sure Umbridge would pass some kind of ridiculous decree to stop us if she found out we were taking it upon ourselves to learn defensive magic outside her class. You never know, we could be building a grand army of Hogwarts students to overthrow the Ministry of Magic. (Sarcasm).

Tomorrow Ron and I are going to start talking to people who might be interested in coming. I already know Ginny will come, and possibly bring Michael with her, and I've already spoken to Parvati and Lavender…maybe even some of the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws would be interested in hearing what Harry has to say…

However, there is no way I am approaching the Slytherins. There's striving for inter-house unity, and then there's just complete madness.

I've just written Viktor a letter about the meeting to see if he has any advice on how we should conduct it, or how to get people interested. Viktor seems very asocial but he really is quite good at this sort of thing. It's nice to talk to someone else besides Harry and Ron about all this, and seeing as Viktor's older it's good to get his opinion sometimes. I briefly dropped Viktor's name while we were talking to Harry about teaching us Defense Against the Dark Arts, but I never got to finish my sentence because Ron whipped his head around so fast it would have probably flown off his neck if it hadn't been attached to it.

"Yeah? What did Vicky say?" Ron practically snarled.

"He said Harry knew how to do stuff even he didn't, and he was in his final year at Durmstrang," I explained in the voice of one who doesn't particularly care that Ron cares about Viktor caring about me.

Ron stared at me suspiciously, and I felt my cheeks grow hot as his gaze slowly moved down to my wrist. I was wearing Viktor's watch. "You're not still in contact with him, are you?" he asked suspiciously.

"So what if I am? I can have a pen-pal if I - "

"He didn't only want to be your pen-pal," Ron snapped.

Oh no, perhaps Ron's been writing Mum and Dad, who have informed him of my elicit affair with Viktor. (Sarcasm).

When we returned to the common room, Harry went up to his dormitory to grab _Cookin__' Up A Storm: Someone's In The Kitchen With Potions_ (we'd spent an hour looking for it at the library when Harry realized that he'd taken the book out a week ago and it was in his dorm, the dolt) so we could finally finish the Potions assignment. As soon as he disappeared up the stairs, Ron cornered me. Metaphorically speaking, of course. We were not actually in a corner. I feel it is important to state that.

"Nice watch," he said scathingly.

"Thank you," I said coolly.

"Birthday present?"

"Yes, it was."

"From a certain 'pen-pal' of yours, perhaps?" Ron sneered.

I turned red again, but stood my ground. "Yes, as a matter of fact, it was."

Ron seemed to deflate when I answered so frankly. "Oh." There was a bit of a silence.

"It's very useful," I said lamely.

"I bet," Ron said curtly. He looked meaningfully at my wrist again and then gave me the silent treatment for a few minutes. At first I was angry – what right does he have to criticize Viktor or his gift? – but then I figured out what was really wrong.

The bracelet. The horrible, horrible bracelet.

"Oh, you know, your bracelet," I blurted out suddenly. "It's really very nice too, and…just….well, it's so nice, I want to save it for a special occasion."

Ron blinked and looked slightly less peeved. "Oh. You do?"

"Yes," I said quickly.

"Oh."

"Yes."

"Well then," said Ron, and he looked rather pleased. I very much hope that there are no special occasions occurring this year.

Harry came hurrying down the steps, clutching the book and looking weary. "Okay, I've got it. Let's get this done so I can go to bed."

Ron stared at the book in Harry's arms for a few seconds and then suddenly burst out laughing. "Why did you take out this book?"

"For Potions!" Harry said defensively.

Ron snorted and sat down at a table, opening his books. "Someone's in the kitchen with Potions…" he muttered, shaking his head.

Then all was well, and everything went back to normal.

However, this exchange with Ron…well, to be honest, it bothered me somewhat…this, plus the gift itself…well, I was feeling confused and that feeling in my stomach was back and I did it only because I needed someone to talk to and I couldn't talk to Ginny about this, so…well…

I had a girl talk with Parvati and Lavender.

"So, when you mentioned Viktor the first time and he turned around, did his entire body turn, or was it just his head?" Lavender asked in her interrogation tone. She and Parvati were seated cross-legged across from me on Lavender's bed.

I threw up my hands in despair. "I really don't see why this is relevant!"

"Hermione, trust us," Parvati said with a sigh.

"Well…I suppose just his head turned," I said reluctantly, rolling my eyes.

"Hmm," said Parvati and Lavender simultaneously, nodding at one another.

"That's it, you're both ridiculous and I am going to bed," I announced, stomping over to my own four-poster bed.

Needless to say, girl talk was a complete disaster.

Weekly Goals

1. Recruit people who will be interested in learning from Harry and/or listening to what he has to say to meet on the first Hogsmeade weekend.

2. Find a place to meet.

3. Stop caring that Ron cares about…things.

4. Work on Arithmancy independent study assignment.


	9. Monday, 2 October

**Author's Notes: **Good news, everyone! I managed to make it to October before the end of this year! Huzzah!

I randomly got inspiration very late at night and wrote this chapter in about an hour. Yay!

Congrats to new FU member theoneunderthebed!

Ellla8, Hermione's studying thing was totally my method of studying! I wrote that chapter in the midst of exams, during those 5 minute study breaks, lol.  I'm glad I got to reach out and share the study method's wondrousness with others through my fic. Rock on.

Queen of Zan, I greatly enjoyed your review and the non-anonymous sponsors it was brought to me by.

Spellotape: Because you're worth it.

Enjoy the chapter, kids, I really like how this one turned out.

Recently edited to fix all the times I called Parvati "Parvarti", and to fix the fact that Umbridge is eating "soup soup". Thanks for pointing that out, guys! Heh, soup-soup.

****

Monday, 2 October

_12:01 p.m._

I've just got a letter from Mum:

_Dear Hermione,_

_Sorry we haven't written in a while, darling; Daddy had a brief crisis last week when one of his patients chipped his tooth on a very stale and very hard scone, and I've been busy remodeling the house. Your new bed came in last week and it looks lovely in your room! We know you're probably very excited to sleep in it when you come home this Christmas, but we've decided to book that skiing vacation we were talking about for the first week of Christmas vacation. What do you think, darling? Dad promises he won't do anything embarrassing like run into a tree again, as this time he plans to learn how to stop._

_Oh, I thought you'd be interested to know that Emma Crick was suspended from school yesterday. Apparently body piercings are against the dress code, as are shirts that would reveal any body piercings, especially those in the navel area, and Emma refused to remove it, so she was suspended for a week. Mrs. Crick says that rebellion against authority is a healthy and normal part of every teenager's development and that Emma is on the road to self-actualization. I'm sure she's right and this is just a phase for Emma. Dad says Emma is on the road to something else which I will not write because it was a rude and vulgar thing to say._

_How are Ron, Harry, Ginny, and your other friends? We hope you're all doing well in school, but remember not to get too upset if your marks aren't quite as high as they were in previous years; remember now that you have Prefect duties on your plate, too! You'll make us proud as long as you try your best, sweetheart. Hope your little study group goes well, and enjoy your weekend in Hogsmeade! (Why is everything there named after hogs? Really, they're quite vile animals.)_

_Love from, Mum and Dad_

_P.S. Dad wants to know if you're still writing to Viktor, and if so, he wants me to tell you not to send Viktor any pictures of yourself because he saw a movie on the telly the other day about a man who took pictures of the teenage girl who lived next door and made a shrine out of them and it was 'all very disturbing'._

_P.P.S. Remember that we never listen to Daddy's advice regarding boys, darling, especially if the advice is caused by a made-for-TV movie._

New bed, hurrah! Ski trip, hurrah! Emma Crick suspended for her belly-button piercing…ha!

_12:36 p.m._

I just slipped over to the Hufflepuff table to speak to Ernie MacMillan and Hannah Abbott about our meeting in Hogsmeade. I had spoken to Ernie about it earlier at our Prefect's meeting on Saturday and he seemed very interested in it.

"Are you still interested in meeting this weekend, Ernie?" I asked in a hushed voice as I sat between him and Hannah.

"Of course," Ernie said immediately, in a very loud voice. "I think it's a brilliant idea, we students banding together - "

"Ernie, keep your voice down," I whispered fiercely, casting a quick glance up at the Head Table. Umbridge was slowly eating her soup, her beady eyes darting around the room occasionally.

" - to learn Defense Against the Dark Arts, seeing as we're learning nothing from a teacher that can only be described as lazy and useless - "

"Ernie!" I hissed.

" – it's disgraceful that the Ministry of Magic is actually preventing us from learning spells at this critical period, with You-Know-Who's return - "

"Ernie!" Hannah and I both tried desperately.

" – and I'm sure many people want to hear what Harry has to say, especially about his encounter with You-Know-Who last year and what he did to counteract - "

Hannah finally kicked him under the table.

"Ow," Ernie muttered, rubbing his shin.

"The more people the better, Ernie, but we don't want to go around publicly promoting the meeting, especially when she's around," I whispered pointedly, nodding at Umbridge.

"Oh," said Ernie, slightly less enthusiastic. "Would this…would this be against school rules?"

"Of course not, I've checked," I assured him. "But I don't think it's a good idea to go around advertising it either, if you know what I mean."

"Ah. Of course," Ernie nodded solemnly.

"You say Potter's going to talk to everyone?" said the blonde boy sitting across from us. I believe his name is Zachary or Zacharias or something.

"Is eavesdropping a hobby of yours, Zach?" Hannah demanded.

The boy rolled his eyes. "The entire Great Hall could hear Ernie. So what's happening this weekend?"

I told him; he seemed very interested, and the more people the better. Ernie promised to pass the message on to Justin, and Hannah said she'd mention it to a few of the other Hufflepuff girls. So that's quite a few people now – Ron spoke to the twins, Lee, and the Gryffindor Quidditch girls, who are all coming for sure; Dean, Neville (I didn't even approach Seamus), the Creevey brothers, Parvati, her sister, and Lavender all promised me they'd be there; Ginny said she would bring Michael and a few of his friends (she asked Luna Lovegood as well…oh well, as I said before, the more people the better…I suppose…);  I think I may even talk to Cho Chang about it, since she seems to be so interested in Harry all of the sudden. I saw her in the loos this morning, but she was sort of crying, so I didn't exactly think it was a good time to broach the subject. Mum always tells me it's good to cry and let your feelings out, but I have a feeling that if one were to cry as much as Cho tends to, it would seriously hamper any attempts at achieving emotional satisfaction.

We're going to have a bigger turnout than I expected, which is wonderful, but it also causes some problems. Firstly, I don't think Harry expects quite this many people to come…but who knows, some of them might not show up. Also, I don't think that twenty-something students having a meeting in the Three Broomsticks will be very surreptitious, so we'll have to find someplace else to have it. There's the Hog's Head, of course…but it seems a bit…dodgy. I'm fairly sure students are allowed though. I'll ask Professor Flitwick about it in Charms.

Another problem is secrecy. I know Ernie only means well, but he does have the tendency to blab. Not to mention that I'm not 100% sure we can trust some of the people who are coming. How are we going to ensure no one goes running to Umbridge after the meeting? I think I'll write to Viktor later (perhaps I'll include numerous photos of me for his shrine…sarcasm…) to see what he thinks.

Ron just told me to stop writing because it's really annoying while he's trying to eat, so I'm writing in here some more just to spite him. Listen to that sound of quill scratching against parchment, Ron, isn't it annoying? Oh bollocks, now he wants to know what I'm writing…and what this book is…

_7:28 p.m._

Points To Discuss At The Meeting This Weekend:

1. Purpose of the study group.

2. Harry is not a raving lunatic.

3. Times/frequency of meetings (once or twice a week?).

4. Location of meetings (???).

5. Confidentiality.

Points _Not_ To Discuss At The Meeting:

1. Harry is a raving lunatic.

2. Cedric Diggory and/or the events of last year.

3. Hair, nails, or anything else Parvati and Lavender may decide to start chattering about halfway through the meeting.

4. Any topics Luna Lovegood may start.

Well, it's good to have that in writing. I'd better make final revisions to my Transfiguration essay before bed, and maybe encourage Ron and Harry to think about starting theirs.

****

Weekly Goals

1. Figure out a way to keep people from blabbing about this weekend's meeting or any other meetings thereafter.

2. Figure out where we could hold any other meetings thereafter.

3. Write back to Mum and Dad.

4. Write to Emma Crick congratulating her on her healthy teenage rebellion against authority. Ha ha ha…okay, maybe not.

5. Stop writing in journal in public, as certain red-heads become vaguely suspicious of it.

6. Arithmancy independent study assignment


	10. Wednesday, 4 October

**Author's Notes:** Yes, friends, it's been awhile. But to make up for it, I'm giving you two chapters for the price of one!

Actually, this is an extremely short chapter, so I felt bad and decided to at least put up _two_ extremely short chapters.

Thanks to everyone who's still reading!

Welcome to the FU, Uncalled For, theoneunderthebed (who shall be acknowledged as an official shirtless!Bill and Charlie fangirl in Omelet of Desire), Purplereader, and Queen of Zan (I enjoyed your poem)!

Wednesday, 4 October

_7:24 p.m._

I finally figured out a way to keep anyone from blabbing to Umbridge about the meeting this weekend! It was actually something Ron said at dinner that gave me the idea. I'm not sure how it came up, but Harry was talking about the night the Order came to get him at the Dursley's to bring him to Grimmauld Place. He had never really told us about it when he first arrived at Headquarters, on account of him being furious with us and all. Ron was finding the whole thing very funny for some reason.

"Then Moody said that I could be a Death Eater imposter, so he made Lupin ask me something only I would know," Harry was saying.

Ron hooted with laughter. "Can you imagine, a Death Eater spy posing as you and living with your relatives? He'd probably curse Dudley within the first week and beg You-Know-Who for a re-assignment."

Harry grinned a bit. "Yeah, I guess it is kind of funny now. But I almost had a heart attack when I saw all those strange people standing downstairs. I thought they were burglars."

Ron snorted. "Yeah, Hermione thought we were Death Eaters when we came to get her - "

I felt my cheeks turning pink and kicked him under the table. "Ron!" I hissed.

"What?" Ron said irritably.

"Dumbledore…he made us swear an oath, remember?" I said in a low voice. Dumbledore didn't actually say anything about keeping secrets from Harry after he was away from the Dursley's, and in fact he said nothing at all about hiding how I had arrived at Grimmauld Place, but my paranoia that night was rather embarrassing, so…

Ron rolled his eyes. "That was only to get us not to blab to Harry in letters. It's not like he made us sign a contract swearing us to secrecy forever or anything."

Something clicked in my brain. Ideas started racing through my mind. It couldn't be that hard to do…of course, it wouldn't be as powerful as Dumbledore's magic…and no one would suspect what it really was…

"Hermione? Hello, Hermione?" Harry said, waving his hand in front of my face. I snapped back to reality.

"Ron, you're brilliant!" I exclaimed, jumping out of my seat.

"I am?" Ron said, confused. He looked at me carefully and then suddenly frowned. "Oh great, that's the same look she had on her face when she thought up spew," he said wryly.

"It's not that, this is important," I said, hurriedly gathering my things.

Ron put on a look of mock astonishment. "More important than spew?" he gasped.

I rolled my eyes at him.

"Hey, where are you going?" Harry asked as I started hurrying out of the Great Hall.

"Library!" I called over my shoulder.

"But of course," I heard Ron say sarcastically. Why is he so mean sometimes? I wish I hadn't called him 'brilliant'…maybe 'inadvertently brilliant'…

I won't make everyone swear an oath like Dumbledore did; I don't even think I'm going to tell everyone what I'm going to do. I'm just going to charm a piece of parchment – I found a good spell in the library; not too strong, but it should make anyone with a big mouth apparent immediately – and tell everyone to sign their name on it, just so we have a list of who attended the meeting and who's going to take lessons from Harry. Hopefully no one will object or ask questions.

When Ron and Harry found me later in the common room they pestered me with questions, but I didn't tell them what I'd been working on. Harry doesn't realize how many people are coming, or that some of them could possibly go to Umbridge, and it could make him nervous or make him reconsider the meeting. Ron would probably just think it's a bit too much. I just avoided their questions and eventually they got bored and stopped asking. Amazing how they do that.

I really hope everything goes well on Saturday.


	11. Saturday, 7 October

Saturday, 7 October

_9:48 p.m._

The meeting went extremely well! No one called Harry a lunatic, everyone eventually signed my contract, Cedric was only brought up once but we handled it, and all right, we were briefly distracted by Luna Lovegood going off on a tangent about Hellopats or something, but other than that everything ran very smoothly.

The pub was a bit dodgy and…er, dirty, I suppose…but I don't believe we were seen or heard by anyone who would tell Umbridge about it, so that's what's important. Harry was just a tad surprised by the number of people who showed up at first, but he got over it. It was such a great turn-out! Everyone Ron and I spoke to came, as well as a few people who must have heard about it from the others. They seem like a good bunch…except for Cho's snooty friend, who made it clear that she didn't want to be there very much, that Zacharias boy, who was downright rude, and Luna and her Halopeths or whatever they were. The twins came, as well as Lee and the Gryffindor Quidditch girls, Dean, Lavender, Parvati, Padma, Colin, Dennis, Neville, Ginny and Michael and his friends, Cho, Ernie, Justin, Hannah, and Susan Bones, whom I'd never really talked to before today. Hannah said she'd mentioned it to her and Susan had seemed very interested. She seems nice, and I guess her aunt was the woman who was fair to Harry during his trial at the Ministry.

I started out by talking to everyone since Harry was a bit unsure of himself, and I got a very good reaction from everyone until I said the V-word.

"You want to pass your Defense Against the Dark Arts OWL too, I bet?" said Michael.

"Of course I do, but more than that, I want to be properly trained in defense because…" I took a deep breath and said warily, "Lord Voldemort is back."

You'd think I'd said, "Lord Voldemort is over there by the bar sipping martinis." Everyone panicked; Cho's friend spilled her drink all over herself, a few people looked around anxiously, and Neville had a brief coughing spasm which I think was his attempt at concealing a yelp.

"Where's the proof You-Know-Who's back?" interrupted Zacharias rather rudely. I tried to intervene, but Harry actually handled it brilliantly.

"I saw him. But Dumbledore told the whole school what happened last year, and if you didn't believe him, you won't believe me, and I'm not wasting an afternoon trying to convince anyone," Harry said simply.

I felt like bursting into applause. But then Zacharias had to go and bring up Cedric, and I could see Harry start to lose his temper and Cho's eyes start watering. Harry glared at me as if it was all my fault. I tried to get the meeting back on track.

"Is is true you can produce a Patronus?" Susan Bones interrupted. Harry flushed but then told her he could. This prompted a barrage of questions regarding Harry's various achievements and near-death experiences, which I was afraid might make him angry. But I think he was rather pleased with everyone's admiration, even if he was a bit embarrassed. Zacharias spoke up and started being difficult again, but Ron shut him up quite nicely and then the twins threatened him with a terrifying-looking device which I don't even want to know about. It was a rather nice gesture by the twins, though, even if it was misguided.

Despite several interruptions and one very long-winded speech from Ernie, we finally decided to meet once a week. It might have to change each week to accommodate three different Quidditch practice schedules, Prefect's meetings, and everyone else's commitments, but we'll figure that out later. We're still unsure about where to meet, but everyone promised to think about it.  
  
Then I tried to appear casual and took out the charmed piece of parchment. "I think everybody should write their name down," I said, "just so we know who was here. But I also think that we ought to agree not to shout about what we're doing. So if you sign, you're agreeing not to tell Umbridge about what we're doing."

I thought it was well said…I told everyone that signing meant that they couldn't tell Umbridge about our group, I just happened to leave out what exactly will happen to them if they do. Hopefully everyone can be trusted, although I'm a bit wary about the three people I mentioned before. But…well, I suppose that although Luna's a bit off, she's not the type to go blabbing to Umbridge. And Zacharias and Marietta both signed without putting up a fight, so it should be okay.

After everyone had signed, it was as if there was an unspoken agreement that the meeting was over, and we left it that we'd somehow manage to get a message round to everyone about the meeting time and place. Getting messages out is something I'll have to think about, too. It's a bit suspicious if I have to go sneaking around to different tables in the Great Hall all the time.

Ron, Harry, and I left the Hog's Head and went out into Hogsmeade. I needed a new quill, so we headed to Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop,

"Well, I think that went quite well," I said, feeling content with the way the meeting turned out.

"That Zacharias bloke's a wart," Ron said, glowering. I couldn't help but agree with him; Zacharias was extremely rude to Harry.

"He overheard me talking to Ernie and Hannah at the Hufflepuff table and he seemed really interested in coming, so what could I say?" I said apologetically, more to Harry than Ron. "But the more people the better, really – I mean, Michael Corner and his friends wouldn't have come if he hadn't been going out with Ginny - "

Ron nearly choked on his Butterbeer and stopped in his tracks. "What?!"

Rolling my eyes, I explained about Michael and Ginny. I knew that he had no idea, but I don't think Ginny really cares if he knows or not, she just hasn't told him because she figured he'd take it badly (which he did). I thought if I mentioned it casually he wouldn't go ballistic, but apparently I was wrong. He immediately voiced his dislike for Michael and incredulously proclaimed that he thought Ginny fancied Harry.

I sighed and patiently set him straight, all the while somewhat hoping that Harry was paying some attention, seeing as he probably never realized that Ginny gave up on him long ago. Harry was in a reverie (possibly due to the fact that Cho made a point of making eyes at him at every possible moment during the meeting, and then took an eternity in the Hog's Head to fasten her bag when everyone else was leaving) but then snapped out of it for a moment when I mentioned that Ginny had given up on him.

"So that's why she talks now?" Harry said slowly. "She never used to talk in front of me."

Bravo, Harry.

"Exactly," I said, picking out a quill. Ron continued harping on about Ginny and Michael as we left, and I took the opportunity to say to Harry in a low voice, "And talking about Michael and Ginny, what about Cho and you?"

Harry turned beet red. "What do you mean?" he asked quickly.

I smiled. "Well, she couldn't keep her eyes off you, could she?"

Harry looked as if I'd just handed him a hundred galleons.

"What do we know about this Corner character, anyways?" Ron continued ranting. "He's in Ravenclaw, for heaven's sake, and he's in our year! Our year! He's a whole year older than Ginny! Robbing the cradle, that's what he's doing…" he continued to chunter on about Michael in the same way he often does about Viktor.

That must be why he's always hounding me about Viktor…he acted the very same way about Michael because he's protective of his sister…that's all it is, he just thinks of me as a sister, too and that's why he's always questioning me about Viktor and such. It's not as if he's jealous or anything. Now I feel foolish about that argument after the Yule Ball. It wasn't because Ron wanted to go with me, he was just being protective.

Well, that's a relief.

_10:34 p.m._

Why doesn't it feel like a relief?

_10:42 p.m._

What about the bracelet, then?

_10:48 p.m._

Oh, why am I kidding myself? Parvati and Lavender can see it, and I think Ginny can see it, and the twins always tease us, and even Tonks, who only saw us once or twice a week, knew it.

I can even admit it to myself…I don't…feel the same way about Harry that I do about Ron…and perhaps…sometimes…he's not so bad, and I…maybe…fancy him, just a tiny bit.

And maybe Lavender and Parvati are right…maybe Ron feels the same way…even if he doesn't realize it.

Too bad he's a completely oblivious, immature prat with the emotional competency of a two-year-old and will never figure it out.


	12. Monday, 9 October

**Author's Notes:** Yay, an update! This chapter wasn't planned out at all…I kind of read the chapter in OotP and just wrote whatever came to mind as I read it, and I kind of like how it turned out. I'm quite proud of this story because it's really different from everything else I've done, so it really means a lot when you guys review this one. Just wanted to let you know I appreciate it.

Oh great and wonderful Talyn, thank you for your eloquent review and request. FanFictionFantom, I'm glad that you don't think that this is one of those things where Hermione is busty and hot and has a passionate affair with someone. We'll leave that to Omelet(te) of Desire. The Hazlenut, I am also lazy and irresponsible, huzzah! P.D. Yerf, glad you understand the ways of the FU now! Crimsonslayer, clearly there is room, and glad you liked the martinis line. Welcome to the FU, all of you!

Monday, 9 October

_7:26 a.m._

I can't stop thinking about how well the meeting went on Saturday! We're actually doing something now and you can tell everyone's excited about it. I actually caught Ron flipping through a Defense Against the Dark Arts book from the library yesterday, and I haven't seen Harry this happy or excited about anything all year. After classes today Ron, Harry and I are going to get together and brainstorm locations for our meetings, if we don't have too much homework, that is. I was thinking of - what on earth was that?

_??? a.m. (left dorm in a hurry to get away from Parvati and Lavender, forgot to put on Viktor's watch)_

_Breakfast_

Argh How did she find out?! I checked everyone as soon as we came into the Great Hall; no one was sporting purple spots so I know none of the people who came to the meeting told Umbridge anything. How, then? We were so careful…

I was writing in here this morning before class when all of the sudden there was this god-awful, loud, wailing noise. Parvati and Lavender rushed out of our dorm to see what was happening.

"Oooh, someone must have tried to get up the stairs!" Lavender said gleefully.

"Wonder who it was?"

"Why on earth would you try to sneak up here at 7:30 in the morning, though?"

"I know, it would be so much more romantic at night…"

I sighed, got my things, pushed past the great gossiping duo and slid down what used to be the stairs.

"It's not fair!" I heard Ron say as I was sliding down. "Hermione's allowed in our dormitory, how come we're not allowed?"

"Well, it's an old-fashioned rule," I explained once I'd reached the bottom. "Anyway, why were you trying to get in there?" I asked Ron, an eyebrow raised.

"To see you," said Ron. I blinked in surprise for a moment, getting entirely the wrong impression like the silly thing I am, before he added, "Look at this!" and dragged me over to the bulletin board.

Umbridge passed another ridiculous educational decree, disbanding – oh bollocks, Ernie's trying to come over here again, the fool.

_History of Magic_

I feel like such a hypocrite, writing in here when I've been glaring at Harry all class for sitting there and doodling on his notebook instead of listening. But I, unlike Harry, have already read ahead about Frunzelfork the Fierce, so I, unlike Harry, can afford to take a brief reprieve from taking notes in order to chronicle today's events.

So as I was saying, Umbridge passed a decree disbanding all clubs, teams, etc., and each organization has to obtain permission from her before they can re-form. They cannot "exist without the knowledge and approval of the High Inquisitor." It's obviously no coincidence. Someone overheard us at the Hog's Head.

After Ron snapped at me for being honourable and trustworthy (two extremely horrible vices, I know) I explained to them that I jinxed the parchment we all signed and that no one could have blabbed. Ron actually seemed rather impressed then, and was really eager to know what would happen to them if – is that Hedwig at the window?

_Lunch_

Hedwig wasn't hurt too badly, thank goodness. The poor thing's wing was all bent out of shape when Harry brought her into the classroom, but he brought her to Professor Grubbly-Plank and she said that she would fix Hedwig up. Clearly someone has been reading Harry's mail. Luckily it wasn't anything too revealing, but it could be dangerous nonetheless. The letter was from Sirius, and all it said was: _Same time, same place._ I suppose he's going to come to the fire in the common room again tonight, although I wish he wouldn't take such stupid risks. Not only was Hedwig injured because of his letter, but now there's a chance that someone (namely Umbridge) has read it, and it's not like we can send a message to warn him because there's a chance that will be intercepted too.

Speaking of everyone's favourite person today, Umbridge was in Potions and – oh, here comes Neville, I have to talk to him…what in the world was he thinking, charging Malfoy like that?

_Defense Against the Dark Arts_

Well if I'm going to sit here and pretend to re-read the dullest textbook ever created I might as well write in here and pretend to also be taking notes from the dullest textbook ever created while I'm at it. I still don't know what got into Neville in Potions; he didn't exactly want to talk at lunch.

"Hi Neville," I said as he sat down.

"Hi," Neville muttered. He had looked furious when he was trying to go at it with Malfoy, but at lunch he just looked deflated.

"Is something wrong?" I tried.

Neville murmured something incomprehensible, staring at his plate.

"You're just not acting like yourself today…"

Neville said nothing.

"Harry and Ron were just trying to help in Potions today, you know," I said reasonably. "Crabbe and Goyle would've killed you if you'd tried to hit Malfoy…"

Nothing.

"Why…did you try to hit Malfoy?" I asked in a last-ditch effort.

"I dunno," Neville muttered, hanging his head. I gave up and decided to let him be.

Umbridge was in Arithmancy too, but she seemed to decide that Arithmetic equations won't help any of us overthrow the Ministry, so she didn't give Professor Vector a hard time. She was, however, particularly nasty to me when I tried to pitch in with an answer to a question she asked Justin Finch-Fletchley about the class. She was asking – what on earth is Parvati doing? Oh honestly, is she trying to pass me a note? She probably wants to know what we're going to do now that the educational decree has been passed (we're going to do it anyway, of course). Brilliant, Parvati, right in front of Umbridge. I'm just going to ignore her and hope she gets the message.

Oh perfect, now she's tossed it on my desk.

_Dinner_

Here was Parvati's note:

_Mione_

_O.K. so Emily Cameron told me that Jessie Laurence told her that Marguerite Beauregard told her that Ron Weasley told her that he was the one who was trying to get upstairs this morning! To see you!!! What's going on???_

_  
P & L_

Firstly, where did she come up with the ridiculous abbreviation "Mione"? And here I thought that Parvati and Lavender actually cared about our Defense Against the Dark Arts group – oh, what do you want, Ron?

_Still Dinner_

For someone who can't take notice of other, infinitely more important things, Ron is oddly observant.

"Hermione!" Ron yelled in my ear, for what I assume was probably the third or fourth time, since I was busy writing and ignoring him.

"What?" I asked irritably, slamming my journal shut.

"You haven't eaten anything all day because you've been writing in that bloody book at every single meal," Ron pointed out. He peered over my shoulder at my closed journal. "What are you writing about, anyways?"

"Ideas for locations for the meetings," I lied. "You should be brainstorming, too," I said accusingly.

"Oh," Ron said, rather lamely. "Well…we'll all brainstorm later. Eat something."

"I didn't know you were so concerned about my eating habits," I replied, raising an eyebrow and yet feeling oddly pleased at the same time.

"I'm not," Ron said quickly, turning a bit pink. "It's just that you're…grumpy when you don't eat," he said matter-of-factly. I rolled my eyes at him. He shrugged then got up to go talk to Fred and George at the other end of the table.

Well maybe I wouldn't have to be writing furiously at each meal if I would stop getting interrupted. I'm just trying to chronicle the day's events in an organized fashion and – oh for the love of – GO BACK TO YOUR OWN TABLE, ERNIE!

_8:15 p.m. (ran up to dorm to put on watch – stairs are back to normal)_

We're back in the common room, except Harry's busy writing the Potions essay Snape assigned him and Ron's busy making up rubbish for a Diviniation assignment, so I guess we'll have to brainstorm ideas for the Defense group's meeting locations later. Now, where was I? I can't even remember what I was trying to write about. Arithmancy? Oh, yes. Umbridge asked Justin Finch-Fletchley about the independent study assignment, and Justin told her that Checkpoint #2 is due next week, when really it's Checkpoint #3, and it's not as if I was trying to prove anything to Umbridge, I just thought Justin should probably know he's a checkpoint behind.

"It's Checkpoint #3, actually," I supplied helpfully.

"…It is?" Justin said, turning white. "Bollocks," he said under his breath.

"Excuse me, Miss Granger," Umbridge said in her sickeningly sweet tone, "but I believe I was asking Mr. Finch-Fletchley a question."

"I know, I was just - "

"Is your name Mr. Finch-Fletchley?" she interrupted sweetly.

I sighed. "No."

"You will answer, 'No, Professor Umbridge'."

I took a deep breath. "No, Professor Umbridge," I repeated in a clipped voice.

"Very good," Umbridge said with a smile. "We must learn not to speak out of turn, musn't we? Speaking out of turn is against school rules, and as a prefect, we wouldn't want to break any school rules now, would we?"

I could have sworn I saw a glint in her eye. I clenched my teeth. "No, Professor Umbridge."

"Good girl," she said approvingly, then went off to speak to Dean and Seamus.

She knows I was there at the Hog's Head, and she knows that I helped organize the meeting. How did she – IF THE TWINS VOMIT INTO THAT BUCKET ONE MORE TIME…

_11:57 p.m._

Well they've finally gone to bed, so now I can finally finish my thought.

What was my thought?

Maybe Ron's right. I do write in here too much. Mrs. Crick would be dancing in the streets for joy if she found out I spent half the day writing in the journal she recommended I start keeping. But I'm not writing about my repressed teenage angst or anything! I just…like to write things down…and organize my thoughts sometimes – Sirius!

_12:12 a.m._

That was such a close call! Too close. I knew this was a bad idea! There's no doubt left. Umbridge has been reading Harry's mail. I suspected it when Harry told us that story about Filch and the Dungbombs. It seemed too strange for Filch to just randomly check Harry's mail for something like that.

My stomach is all in knots now. I can't believe how great things seemed this morning and the horrible turn for the worse everything's taken. Maybe…maybe this whole Defense group isn't such a good idea. I know it was my idea to begin with, but what if we get found out…or expelled…Sirius may be right, at least we would know defense, but to be expelled - NO I DO NOT WANT TO DISCUSS THE FACT THAT RON TRIED TO GET UP THE STAIRS THIS MORNING, LAVENDER!

That's it. I'm going to bed.

Oh…

Weekly Goals

1. Brainstorm location for – oh forget it, those two are still pestering me, I'm going to bed.


	13. Saturday, 14 October

**Author's Notes:** Sorry I've been MIA, guys. So much homework. So much working. So much partying. It's good to be back at school.

Huzzah, chapter. There's probably several people who asked me to be in the FU, but I need sleep almost as much as I need gas prices to decrease significantly, so I'll induct you all officially later. P.S. Damn you, Petro Canada.

Saturday, 14 October

_3:45 p.m._

We did it! We actually held our very first meeting of "Dumbledore's Army" (Ginny's idea…the "DA" for short) Thursday night, and everything went so well!

I'll confess that after we spoke to Sirius I had my doubts…and well, I hate to admit it, even if only to myself, but what Umbridge said last week struck a nerve. I am a prefect, and what she said combined with Sirius' flippant remark about getting expelled sort of made me a bit wary for a little bit. But I realize now that that kind of thinking is just foolish. We're learning to defend ourselves against Voldemort. That is so much more important than anything else, even…even getting expelled. And it's really working; after only one meeting everyone had improved greatly, and Neville actually disarmed Harry. Neville! I've never even seen Neville hit his target with a spell on the first try, never mind successfully disarm someone!

We finally found the perfect location, thanks to Dobby. I was a bit wary about this as well, seeing as last time Dobby tried to help Harry, Madam Pomfrey ended up having to re-grow all of the bones in his left arm. I guess Dobby showed up in Gryffindor tower one night and woke Harry, who was frantically trying to finish his Potions essay (note to self: give Harry another lecture on procrastination). Dobby had brought Hedwig back, and she's fine now, thank goodness.

"He asked me if he could do anything for me, and then I thought that maybe he would know of a place we could practice, since he works in the castle and he probably knows it pretty well," Harry explained the following day at breakfast. "Dobby said he knew the perfect place…it's called the Room of Requirement. It's on the third floor, in that blank wall across from that bizarre painting with the trolls - "

"You mean the one where that bloke is trying to teach trolls ballet?" Ron asked through a mouthful of oatmeal.

"Yeah, that's it."

"Nutter," Ron muttered, shaking his head.

"You're sure this room can fit all twenty-eight of us?" I asked skeptically.

"That's the thing – the room only appears when someone really needs it, and apparently it'll be filled with just the stuff we need and be just the right size for what we need it for," Harry explained.

"And Umbridge?"

"Dobby said the door to the room will disappear once we lock it from inside."

"What about Filch? Mrs. Norris? A bunch of students all wandering around a blank wall on the third floor may attract some attention," I pointed out, frowning.

"Why d'you have to be so negative all the time?" Ron asked irritably.

"I'm not being negative, I'm simply being practical," I shot back.

"Give it a rest," Harry said quickly when Ron opened his mouth to respond. "We'll take the Marauder's Map," Harry told me.

I was still skeptical at this point, but Harry looked so excited and determined that I decided not to pursue it further and changed the subject. "So how was Dobby? Did he mention anything about the other house-elves? The ones I've freed?" I asked eagerly.

"Er…no, not really," Harry said. "He was wearing some of your clothes, though…said he really liked them…"

I frowned. "Well I'm glad he likes them, but I hope he's leaving enough for the rest of the house-elves!"

Ron sighed loudly. I glared at him. He gave me an innocent smile back. My stomach did a flip-flop. Why, oh why?

I couldn't remember reading anything about the Room of Requirement in _Hogwarts: A History_, and I even skimmed through the book once more to see if I could find anything on it, but it wasn't mentioned at all. It must really be a secret room. Harry said that Dumbledore mentioned it last year, but the headmaster didn't seem to understand it any more than we do.

We spread the news of the meeting time and location, and then on Thursday night, the three of us headed up to the Room of Requirement. We walked back and forth in front of this blank stretch of wall a few times, concentrating on what we needed, and then suddenly a door appeared in the wall.

We walked into the room, and it was amazing! There must have been a thousand Defense Against the Dark Arts books in there! There were cushions for practicing Stunning, and Dark detectors, and it's a really big space that we can all easily practice spellwork in. Everyone else showed up moments later. We took a vote and elected Harry as leader, and then Ginny came up with the DA.

I was really impressed with the way Harry took charge. He got us all to pair up and started us out with practicing disarming. It's something that's not highly advanced, but it's a valuable spell to know nonetheless; a perfect way to begin. Besides, judging by everyone's first performances, the group wasn't exactly up to standards on their spellwork. But by the end of the meeting, everyone had improved considerably. Ron even managed to disarm me a few times. Actually, when he realized that the entire group wasn't watching us, waiting for him to mess up, and were far too busy practicing their own spells, Ron improved significantly. I really hope their first Quidditch match goes well for him; Ron could use the boost in self-confidence. Mrs. Crick would probably say that Ron's lack of confidence and fear of failure is due to his large family and the immense pressure he's under to live up to the high standards his older brothers unknowingly set for him, but I'm sure Ron wouldn't particularly care what Mrs. Crick would say and would most likely tell her to shove it.

Overall, the meeting was a huge success, and it was so immensely satisfying to sit there in Umbridge's class on Friday knowing that we were defying her, right under her nose. Harry couldn't stop smiling all day. I haven't seen him this happy in months. Although it may also have something to do with the fact that Cho was all giggly around him at the meeting. Sometimes I wonder about Cho. She went from crying about Cedric at lunch because they served his favourite kind of soup to flirting with Harry at the meeting.

Even Malfoy couldn't get us down at the prefect's meeting today. Rob was explaining that, as prefects, we can still enjoy the Quidditch game coming up but we are also to help keep the crowd under control and report any rowdiness or misbehaviour to the teachers. Malfoy was smirking an awful lot through all of this.

"Yes, Draco, since you're playing in the match you're obviously exempted from your prefect duties," Rob said wearily, after nearly five minutes of having to look at Malfoy smirking from the armchair he was lounging in. Malfoy said something to Pansy under his breath and smirked some more, then looked pointedly at Ron. They both snickered.

"You too, Weasley," Rob said a bit more cheerfully. He nudged Ron. "You've got to win it for us, eh?"

Ron turned a bit pale, as I've noticed he's been doing any time anyone brings up the match, and Malfoy snorted loudly. The colour returned to Ron's face and he gripped the sides of his chair, glaring at Malfoy.

"Can't wait 'til Harry teaches us some good jinxes," Ron growled as we left the meeting. "Then we can use them on Malfoy."

I smiled. "And he won't even be able to counter-jinx us, seeing as his Defense education consists of reading Slinkard, and Slinkard thinks that counter-jinx 'is just a name people give their jinxes when they want to make them sound more acceptable,'" I said mockingly, quoting the textbook.

"Well," said Ron in a breathy impersonation of Umbridge, "I'm sure as long as Mr. Malfoy has studied the theory hard enough, there is no reason why he should not be able to defend himself from our relentless attacks under carefully controlled examination conditions."

I burst out laughing, and Ron joined in, looking pleased with himself. The laughter died away. I smiled at him. Ron grinned back. My stomach did the flip-flop. And so it goes.

Our next DA meeting is on Wednesday. It looks like there's going to be no way we can set a regular day of the week for meetings, seeing as we have to accommodate three different houses' Quidditch practices, not to mention everyone's homework schedule. We'll have to change it to accommodate everyone each week, but the problem now is how we're going to communicate the meeting day to everyone. It was quite the challenge to inform everyone about the first meeting, and it's going to look suspicious if we're crossing the Great Hall all the time to talk to people from different houses. Of course, we could say that we're striving for inter-house unity, but I have a feeling that no one but the Sorting Hat would appreciate that, and unfortunately the Sorting Hat is not the Hogwarts High Inquisitor.

Hm, I just got a very funny mental image of the Sorting Hat teaching us Defense Against the Dark Arts…

Anyways, I'm going to do some research into it and give it some thought. Perhaps I'll write Viktor about it; he always has good ideas.


	14. Monday, 30 October

**Author's Notes:** Just when you all think I've dropped off the face of the planet, I return. Like Saved By the Bell: The New Class. Except hopefully I'm not an even cheesier, shoddier version of the original.

Thanks to everyone who's still reading; I know updates are few and far between, but I'm really going to try to get up to Christmas in the story done by...well, Christmas. Honest. I shall try.

Monday, 30 October

_8:19 p.m._

I can't believe I haven't written in here in a fortnight! I haven't even been writing down my weekly goals, which is atrocious. This is how people lose focus and begin procrastinating and end up staying up until four a.m. Sunday night trying to frantically finish their Charms essay like a certain red-head I know, who I ended up staying up with and helping because I felt bad for him since all the Slytherins have been rotten to him for the past three weeks, but now I am extremely tired from staying up until four a.m., hence this nonsensical run-on sentence.

Things have been so busy with homework, knitting my house-elf clothes, tutoring Neville in Potions (he came to me last week and asked me if I would tutor him…he said he's sick of doing horribly in that class, and of course I said I would be happy to help), not to mention the DA. We've had three meetings now, and the improvement in everyone is incredible. I've never seen Neville work so hard or pick up spells so quickly; the Creevey brothers finally mastered the Impediment jinx; and Ron's gotten so good that I'm having trouble disarming him now. I mean, I'm sure I could, if I really tried, but it makes him feel good about himself when he does, so I go a bit easier on him sometimes. It's not that he's getting better than me…or anything…

Parvati and Lavender have, surprisingly, taken a huge interest in the DA, and are constantly practicing spells in the dorm and asking me to help them. I don't mind, but I have a sneaking suspicion that this has something to do with the fact that Anthony Goldstein was extremely impressed when Parvati turned that table to dust with the Reductor curse, and I have since heard the words "Anthony Goldstein" and "dreamy" in the same sentence many times.

I figured out a way for us to communicate meeting times and days, and I'm really rather proud of it! I just used some old buttons and Transfigured them to make the fake galleons, and the Protean charm wasn't difficult to do. I haven't shown Harry or Ron yet; I think I'm going to bring the galleons to the next DA meeting and see what everyone thinks. Viktor thought it was a great idea, but I'm a bit worried about what Harry might think – after all, I did sort of get the idea from Voldemort and the Death Eaters – but hopefully he won't be offended or anything, seeing as I decided to engrave the dates and times on galleons rather than our members' forearms.

It will be so much easier once we put the new system into effect; I was in charge of letting all the Ravenclaws know about our next meeting this week, and I couldn't get Cho and Marietta away from their giggly, non-DA friends all day. Finally I saw Cho go into the toilets alone, and although I wasn't too keen on the idea of cornering her in the loo, I didn't really have a choice. I probably should have let her be seeing as last time I saw Cho in the toilets she was crying by the sink, but I walked in anyway. All the stalls were empty except for one, from which there was coming an awful lot of sniffling and sobbing.

"Erm…Cho?" I said, rather foolishly. (Note to self: Learn when to keep my mouth shut and just quietly leave.)

There was a startled sniffle and then Cho's muffled voice saying, "…Yes?"

"Er…I just wanted to let you know that the DA meeting is Wednesday at eight…"

"Hermione?" Sniffle. "Is that you?"

"Yes…" I sighed. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, I…I just…tomorrow's the Halloween Feast and…and it'll be the first one…without him…" Cho choked back a sob.

"Oh, Cho," I said sympathetically. "I'm sorry."

"Thanks," Cho said thickly. "I guess I'll…see you at the meeting, then."

And so my conversation with the toilet stall ended.

In other news, the Quidditch match is a week away and Ron is a mess. Even Harry wasn't this nervous before his first match. It doesn't help that the Slytherins are giving Ron such a hard time; yesterday Bole grabbed Ron when we were walking by in the halls and murmured, "I'll come visit you in the hospital wing after the match, Weasel." His friends all roared with laughter, and Ron turned a very disturbing shade of green. I do hope they don't jeer at him on the field or anything. That could be disastrous. I tried to discreetly have a talk with Harry about it last night (before the four a.m. Charms essay marathon, that is) while Ron was playing chess with Ginny (this procrastination ultimately lead to the aforementioned marathon).

"Harry," I said in a low voice, "how's Ron doing?"

"What d'you mean?" Harry asked, hidden behind a stack of Charms books (he also left his essay to the last minute, although he actually finished at the reasonable hour of midnight).

"I mean for Quidditch."

"He's really good," Harry said loyally.

"I know he's good, I meant how do you think he'll be at the match?" I asked anxiously.

"Sick?" Harry said half-heartedly.

"That's what I was afraid of."

"Look, he's amazing when he thinks no one's looking…"

"So I guess we'll just have to tell everyone in the stands to look the other way whenever Slytherin tries to score," I said hopefully.

"It's just first game nerves. He'll be fine," Harry said, although he didn't sound very convincing. I didn't pursue it because that was when Ron walked over, saw Harry's essay, and yelled, "Oh bloody hell, is that due tomorrow?!"

Parvati and Lavender just came up from the common room. They said they wanted to practice the Impediment jinx tonight, and left to talk to the sixth-year girls across the hall before I had time to tell them that the only thing I'll be practicing tonight are my sleeping skills. Tomorrow night's the Halloween feast and I don't really want to pass out in the rice pudding or anything.

_9:21 p.m._

Argh, Parvati and Lavender came back in and started bugging me to show them Impedimenta one more time before Wednesday's meeting so they can show off to Anthony Goldstein.

"Sorry, I really need to get some sleep," I told them with a yawn. "I stayed up all night with Ron last night."

Parvati and Lavender had a heyday.

"To help him with his essay!" I shouted over their shrieks and giggles. "TO HELP HIM WITH – oh never mind, you two are hopeless."

"Ooh Hermione, you never did tell us why wanted to get up here so badly!" Lavender squealed.

"Pardon me?" I said blankly.

"When he tried to get up to the girls' dormitories and the stairs melted!" Parvati said exasperatedly.

I stared at them. "THAT WAS THREE WEEKS AGO! WILL YOU TWO GIVE IT A REST?"

I have a headache. I'm going to bed.

Wait! Focus!

Weekly Goals

1. Continue tutoring Neville – our goal is at least a 'P' on his next assignment. Will work our way up to 'O'!

2. Continue knitting elf hats/socks/accessories. Try handbags? (for female house-elves)

3. Introduce and explain galleon system at next DA meeting. If Harry really doesn't like it, begin thinking of new way to communicate.

4. Improve Ron's self-esteem. Also, do not let the Slytherin team murder him.

5. Arithmancy independent study assignment Checkpoint #5.


	15. Saturday, 4 November

**Author's Notes:** I've been writing a Literature Review for one of my courses for the past week or so, and what's worked as my schedule is this:

3:00: write Lit Review for an hour

4:00: write TSD for an hour

5:00: write Lit Review for an hour

6:00: supper

6:30: play DDR for half an hour

7:00: write TSD for half an hour

7:30: write Lit Review for hour and a half

9:00: more DDR

9:30: write Lit Review for an hour

10:30: consider going to bed

10:31: start watching PoA DVD

Consequently, I've beaten almost every DDR song on Standard and have written a whole bunch of TSD chapters.

This was a fun chapter to write. Huge kudos to everyone who's still reading and/or reviewing. You guys are all amazing. I'm curious to know what you think of this chapter, and at the increasing amounts of almost-mush as Hermione progresses through the year. Yay feedback!

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Saturday, 4 November

_7:42 a.m._

Oh, dear. I saw Ron last night before he went to bed and he actually looked paler than Nearly Headless Nick, who had dropped into the common room for a chat with Angelina about Gryffindor's chances last night. I hadn't the faintest clue that the ghosts follow Quidditch too, but there you are. It seems everyone in this castle is obsessed with the game but me.

Well, hopefully Ron will have gotten a good night's rest and he'll feel much better this morning!

_7:59 a.m._

Ron looks terrible. I caught a glimpse of him leaving the common room with Harry as I came downstairs, and the look on his face was very similar to the one he had on his face just before he started vomiting slugs in second year.

_8:35 a.m._

It's no wonder that some of the Slytherins do so poorly academically; it seems they spend all their time thinking up nasty things to say and/or do to other people, possibly as a consequence of their own low self-esteems and poor psychosocial developments. I honestly sometimes wonder if they all sit around and brainstorm lists of horrible things to do to people. Making badges? That's not being cruel to your peers for lack of anything better to do. That's bordering on making it a hobby.

Ginny and I came down to breakfast to find the Great Hall ablaze (I really do enjoy the word ablaze, but I haven't often had the opportunity to use it properly in a sentence without it sounding flowery and overdramatic, which I'm sure it just did, but oh well, it's my journal…) with red, gold, green, and silver. Happily, there seemed to be a lot more red and gold than green and silver. Unhappily, the Slytherins seemed to have branched off from the traditional scarves and rosettes.

"What on earth are they wearing?" Ginny whispered, squinting at the silver, crown-shaped badges the Slytherins were all sporting.

"Weasley is our king," I read under my breath. "Oh no."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I haven't the faintest clue, but something tells me that it's not a change of heart and show of good sportsmanship," I muttered. "Whatever you do, don't mention it to Ron. Hopefully he won't notice."

We sat down at the Gryffindor table, where Harry was trying to persuade Ron to eat, and Ron looked as if he was seriously considering drowning himself in his cereal.

"How're you feeling?" Ginny asked him as we sat down.

"He's just nervous," Harry answered quickly.

"Well, that's a good sign, I never feel you perform as well in exams if you're not a bit nervous," I said with false cheerfulness.

Ron glanced up at me and briefly looked as if he was going to respond with a nasty retort, which was heartening, but the next second he looked just plain sick again and returned to contemplating suicide by cereal.

After a few more painful minutes of Harry trying to coax Ron to eat and failing miserably, the two of them decided to leave for the change room. As they were leaving, I took Harry aside and told him to make sure Ron didn't see what was on the badges.

"Good luck, Ron!" I said encouragingly. And then I did something very odd. I stood on my tiptoes and kissed Ron on the cheek. I'm not really sure why. However, Ron being oblivious to the world and/or still entertaining ideas of suicide, did not notice or care. Not that I care. If he noticed or cared, that is.

"And you, Harry," I added hastily, so as not to appear partial. Harry gave me a faint smile and then led Ron across the Great Hall. I turned around to find Ginny looking at me with one eyebrow raised.

"What?" I said irritably.

Ginny just shook her head and smiled.

Well, it's nearly 9:00, and the game starts at 10:30. I'd better go meet Ron in the common room, he likes to go ridiculously early and get - oh, bother. Ron's playing. Funny how I just wrote volumes about his pre-game anxiety and yet I still forgot he wouldn't be sitting in the stands with me. Well, I suppose I'll go down to the stadium by myself…

_9:01 a.m._

I just opened my drawer to get my scarf and that ghastly bracelet was in there, staring at me accusingly. If it is possible for ghastly bracelets to stare at people accusingly. I think I may bring myself to wear it…it might bring good luck for Ron, you know…

_9:15 a.m._

Why did I come so early? The only people already here are the nutters who sit in the stands and examine the pitch conditions in order to make predictions about the outcome of the game. Oh, fantastic, the Slytherins are singing.

_9:18 a.m._

I never noticed you could see Hagrid's hut from up here. You can tell it's empty even from here. I do hope he's all right.

Argh, what are they singing?! Something about a ring…or a king…

_9:20 a.m._

Oh dear.

_9:47 a.m._

Well this is just wonderful. The Slytherins seem to have composed a song about Ron, Ginny's left me to go sit with Michael and his friends, Parvati and Lavender have left me to go stalk Anthony Goldstein, and now Luna Lovegood has decided to sit with me and she's wearing that ridiculous hat. She doesn't seem to mind that I'm sitting here writing in my journal rather than attempting conversation, either. She's just staring off into space.

_10:13 a.m._

I can't decide if Ron looked really sick when he left the Great Hall because I kissed him on the cheek, or if he was looking that sick beforehand.

"Hm," Luna just said out of the blue. "They're singing. Isn't that nice?"

_10:33 a.m._

The teams have just come out on the field, but it's too far away to tell if Ron still looks like he's going to start belching invertebrates. Okay, he managed to get on his broom and fly to the hoop, that's good, that's a start…

_10:42 a.m._

Oh no, oh no, he's headed for the goal…SAVE IT RON! Okay, well…that was a difficult one to save…maybe next time…

_10:50 a.m._

It's really rather pathetic that I'm writing about the game in my journal, but that's what happens when the person whom you usually sit with and verbally discuss Quidditch matches with goes and gets himself on the team and you end up sitting with Looney Love - OH COME ON RON, BLOCK HIM! Okay, well, that's only two in…that only counts for a few points, right? Oh, according to Lee it's twenty…well that's not too much…ARGH! I'M GOING TO DO A SILENCING CHARM ON THE ENTIRE SLYTHERIN STUDENT BODY IF THEY DON'T SHUT UP WITH THAT SONG!

_10:54 a.m._

HARRY PAY ATTENTION!!!

_11:02 a.m._

Yes! We finally scored! Forty-ten, that's not too bad… and if Harry catches the Snitch I think we get a substantial amount of points…

_11:10 a.m._

YES!!! Harry's caught the Snitch! I'm assuming he got us enough points to win because everyone in the Gryffindor section is cheering and…OH!

_11:12 a.m._

HITTING HIM WITH A BLUDGER WHEN HIS BACK'S TURNED OF ALL THE DIRTY, ROTTEN -

_11:20 a.m._

Well that's fine then, Harry's not hurt and yes, Ron walked off the pitch looking a bit dejected but they did win. And hopefully Crabbe will get suspended from the next game or something for that kind of behaviour…what on earth are the twins trying to do down there? Oh, no, no…HARRY, NO!

_1:45 p.m._

Banned. Harry, Fred, and George are banned. From Quidditch For life. How can she do this?! She has no right…and I heard Crabbe only got lines for hitting Harry with that Bludger. Lines! There is absolutely no equality and fairness left in the disciplinary system at this school, and if the Minister for Magic was not a pompous ass, I would write to him straightaway demanding justice.

_6:30 p.m._

I can't believe I called the Minister for Magic a pompous ass. But it is unfair and Harry hasn't looked this dejected and unhappy in awhile. Plus no one's seen Ron since the game and I'm beginning to worry. He wasn't at lunch or supper, and Ron never misses lunch or supper without a good reason. Where could he be?


	16. Monday, 6 November

**Author's Notes:** So tired…but must post chapter…

Monday, 6 November

_10:22 p.m._

Hagrid's back!!! He nearly got killed and he looks perfectly awful, but at least he's back at Hogwarts now and he's safe. He and Madame Maxime did try to contact the giants, as we suspected, but I couldn't possibly write all the details out in here, especially with Parvati in the room. She's shut herself up in her bed and refuses to speak to Lavender (who is sleeping in Ginny's dormitory tonight to avoid further conflict), because Lavender apparently "stabbed her in the heart with a jagged knife" by consenting to go out with Anthony Goldstein without Parvati's permission. Consequently, Parvati's taken to moaning and groaning and attempting to share her woes with me, and the only way I got her to shut up was, ironically, suggesting that she put all of her thoughts and feelings about the incident into a journal (she insists on calling it a diary) in order to achieve emotional satisfaction. I think she's currently writing a poem about despair and loss.

Anyway, with regards to Hagrid, suffice to say that the mission was not exactly a success. Their initial contact with the giants was good, but then the Gurg was killed and the new Gurg got quite violent with them. Madame Maxime had to use magic to get Hagrid out of a bind, and obviously the giants were not pleased with that, and so Hagrid and Madame Maxime gave up on the new Gurg's lot and tried to make contact with the few rebels who were not happy with the new leadership. Meanwhile, the new Gurg made friends with some nice Death Eaters, which is most definitely not good. If only the Ministry had extended the hand of friendship long ago…it's really quite sad what wizardkind has driven giants to. I mean, sure they're a bit violent…but what race wouldn't be after years of oppression and intolerance? There used to be hundreds of tribes, and now Hagrid says there's only seventy or eighty giants left in the whole world…and wizards are partly responsible for this growing extinction.

The trip doesn't seem to have been a total waste, though. The giants heard Dumbledore's message and if they're still unhappy with the current Gurg, perhaps they'll remember it. And Hagrid seems to have finally found someone like himself to identify with. I went over yesterday to try to help him plan his lessons (Umbridge showed up Saturday night while we were visiting him… that prejudiced, loathsome, vile woman is going to look for any excuse to sack him now that he's back), but all Hagrid could talk about was Madame Maxime.

"Shoulda seen her, Hermione," Hagrid said with a far-off look when I went to visit. "Wasn't afraid of roughing it, Olympe. She's a fine woman and I spect she's used to the finer things in life, but when the goin' got rough…not a word of complaint, not a word of it…"

(This was a repetition of a similar speech from Saturday night).

"Well, that's very nice, Hagrid," I said impatiently. "But please, we really have to talk about your lesson tomorrow. Umbridge will try to find any excuse to belittle you. You have to have a full-proof lesson plan - "

"But I do!" Hagrid said eagerly. "Wait 'til you see 'em…or rather, don't see 'em…"

This contradictory statement didn't make me feel any better. "Hagrid, are 'they' dangerous?"

"'Course not!" Hagrid exclaimed.

"Maybe I should rephrase the question," I said with a sigh. "Is there even the remotest chance that what you plan to show us on Tuesday will bite, kick, trample, sting, or emotionally scar any of the students in any way, shape, or form?"

"Well if yer did somethin' to offend 'em or hurt 'em or the like, acourse they'll get nasty with yeh," Hagrid laughed. "But a bunny rabbit'll bite yeh if yeh bug it enough."

"That's not encouraging, Hagrid," I said weakly. I eyed his mangled face and the green-tinged dragon meat he was still holding over his wounds. "And please don't show up to class with that slab of meat on your face."

"'Course not," Hagrid said. "Nothin' to worry about, anyway…jus' had a little accident…"

"A little accident?" I said doubtfully. "Hagrid, what on earth happened? Why hasn't it begun to heal yet? Some of those cuts are still bleeding!"

"Scone?" Hagrid said gruffly, ignoring me.

"Hagrid, please," I pleaded, "Professor Grubbly-Plank was just about to start Knarls, and I think that would be the best topic for your first lesson back. Everyone would much rather learn about Knarls than say…Chimaeras, or something."

Hagrid gave a hearty chuckle. "Nobody in their right mind would want ter learn about Knarls over Chimaeras!"

"You're not actually showing us Chimaeras, are you?" I asked in alarm.

"Don't be daft!" Hagrid exclaimed.

I felt momentarily relieved.

"Don't yeh know how hard it is ter get Chimaera eggs?" Hagrid said resentfully.

My relief vanished.

Well, I tried my best. The good news is that he does have something planned. The bad news is that the lesson may or may not end with someone losing a limb. I hope it's Umbridge, at least.

_11:14 p.m._

"Hermione," Parvati just called from within her fortress of solitude. "What rhymes with melancholy?"

"Er…perhaps the diary and the poetry thing were bad ideas," I said quickly. "Maybe you should just talk to Lavender. I'm sure you'd feel better if you two just talked this out."

"I shall never speak to her again," Parvati said solemnly. "Iron has entered my heart, Hermione."

Now she's put on the Wireless and it's playing that dreadful song by that witch with the excessive, dark eye makeup and the throaty voice…ugh.

In other news, Ron's decided to stay on the Quidditch team, possibly because if he quit now they wouldn't even have half a Quidditch team. Angelina's slowly coming to terms with reality and she's holding tryouts next week sometime. Ginny admitted that she's been thinking about trying out for Seeker. I think it would be absolutely wonderful for Ginny if she made it. I hope Harry won't be angry with her if she takes his position...but they do need a new Seeker, and Ginny's quite good, from what I understand.

Ron was really down on himself when he finally came back to the common room on Saturday night, right before I noticed Hagrid was back. I think his self-esteem reached an all-time low. I swear I will get Malfoy back for that song. But after we visited Hagrid I think things were put in perspective for Ron. After all, he'd only done poorly at a Quidditch game; it wasn't as if he traveled to the European mountains and back and got beaten on by giants essentially for nothing. Anyway, Ron doesn't seem to be inconsolably depressed anymore, so that's good.

I er…sort of forgot to take off that horrible bracelet Saturday night, and he noticed when we got back from Hagrid's. Harry went straight to bed when we got back, but as prefects Ron and I have to ensure that the common room is spotless before we go to bed, and it looked as if Fred and George had decided to take out their frustration with Umbridge by spraying the entire room with an abundance of what I thought was Silly String, but turned out to be another patented Weasley invention that had the annoying habit of wrapping itself around your hands and arms and trying to squeeze the life out of you when you picked it up.

"I heard them talking about this stuff," Ron said gloomily, trying to disentangle himself from a load of it. "Serpent String…'all the power of a boa constrictor', or some rubbish like that."

"Argh, get off!" I growled as a particularly violent piece bound my wrists together and started squeezing. I struggled in vain to grab my wand, which is no easy feat with bound wrists.

"Hang on, I got it," Ron said, successfully disentangling himself and grabbing his own wand. He took a step forward and grabbed my bound wrists. "_Immobilus_," he said, careful to tap the Serpent String and not my wrists. It fell, unmoving, to the ground.

Ron rubbed my wrists and then seemed to realize what he was doing. He hastily let his arms drop to the side. "You okay?" he muttered, looking embarrassed.

"Yeah, thanks," I muttered back.

Insert uncomfortable silence here. I rubbed my wrists some. The remaining Serpent String decided to surrender and stopped moving after seeing the fate met by its brethren.

"Hey," Ron said suddenly, gesturing to the bracelet. He looked fairly pleased.

"Oh," I said, flustered. "I er…wore it for Quidditch…I mean, for luck, you know."

A gloomy look returned to Ron's face. "Didn't do much good, did it?" he sighed. "Oh well…thanks…that was…er…nice of you. It…um…looks nice…on you."

The horrible, horrible bracelet dangled from my wrist, looking appalling.

"Thanks," I said weakly.

Drats. Now I may actually have to wear it once and awhile.

Harry's doubled his devotion to the DA in the few days since he was banned from Quidditch. Today he spent almost all of his time in class writing out ideas for spells to try out at the next DA meeting, and doodling Cho's name on his Slinkhard textbook. Part of me wants to lecture him, but it makes him happy, and he feels like he's doing something to get back at Umbridge, so I'm just going to let him be. That, and I welcome any and all graffiti on the Slinkhard textbook.

Well, I should go to sleep. Hopefully Hagrid will avoid disaster tomorrow.

"Parvati?" I just tried. "I'm going to sleep, are you going to be up much longer?"

"Yes," Parvati's muffled voice replied miserably. "How can I possibly enter the peace of slumber when I'm in the depths of despair?"

It's going to be a wonderful week.

Weekly Goals

1. Reconcile Parvati and Lavender for the sake of my own sanity.

2. Do not allow Hagrid to be sacked!!!

3. Encourage Harry's DA-related activities, but stress the importance of completing homework as well.

4. Potions major essay (due next Friday and I haven't even started yet…absolutely horrendous).

5. House elf clothes.

6. Continue tutoring Neville in Potions - help him with essay when I'm finished my own?

7. Arithmancy Checkpoint #6.


	17. Tuesday, 14 November

**Author's Notes:** Haha, I have an exam tomorrow (or rather, today, seeing as its now midnight) and here I am writing TSD. Consequently, much of Hermione's school-related frustration and procrastination in this chapter is a direct result of my own.

Wow, at this rate I might actually get Book 2 done...gasp...BEFORE THE NEW YEAR! I can't wait for Book 3. I'm totally going to up the ante mush-wise (is a sucker for mushy stuff this time of year). I realize there's little R/H evidence in the book, but I plan on capitalizing on the fact that Harry is a bit too distracted in the new year to focus on the subtle nuances of Ron and Hermione's relationship. Any feedback on this plan would be much appreciated.

* * *

Tuesday, 14 November

_8:30 a.m._

There was a terrible snowstorm last night, so double Herbology is canceled this morning on account of the entrance to the greenhouses being completely submerged in four feet of snow. Apparently Hagrid's been working on melting it since 7:00 this morning, but it seems the greenhouses won't be accessible until this afternoon. I find this a bit hard to believe (a simple melting charm would probably do the trick), but its so bitterly cold outside that Professor Sprout probably just didn't want us trekking out to the greenhouses at all in this weather. Its a bit disappointing because we were going to start a new unit on flowering plants with healing properties today, but on the other hand, it gives me some time to put the finishing touches on my Potions essay. I'm still not one hundred percent sure if I'm using WLA (Wizard's Language Association) citation properly and Snape refuses to help anyone. And I just know he's going to dock marks if I forget to put a comma after the author's name, or put a period in the wrong place, or use the wrong sort of brackets, or something trivial like that.

I was going to ask to look at Ron's and Harry's essays to see how they cited their primary sources, but a) they went straight back to bed after they found out Herbology was cancelled and b) I have a bad feeling that they haven't even started their essays yet.

_9:12 a.m._

Excellent. I have secured the Official WLA Handbook from the library. I only managed to get the condensed version though, because the full version evidently weighs over one hundred pounds and is kept in its own study carrel in the library where students can peruse it without actually attempting to move it (Madam Pince, 1995).

Oh wait, according to the handbook I just have to write the author's last name. So (Pince, 1995).

Hang on, since its not a work of literature and the information was instead obtained through personal dialogue, I have to put "personal communication" in there. So (Pince, personal communication, 14 November, 1995).

Oh, but if I'm doing a personal communication citation I do need the author's first initial in there. So (M. Pince, personal communication, 14 November, 1995).

Wait. Madam Pince's first name is not Madam.

Oh forget it, this is ridiculous. I should be working on the essay.

_12:30 p.m._

"Hermione, the three of us are skiving off History of Magic," Ron announced as he and Harry plopped down to eat at lunch. They looked particularly well-rested, probably from sleeping in this morning. But since I didn't sleep in and worked on my essay instead, I won't be the one up until four a.m. frantically working on it in the common room tonight, ha.

"I most certainly am not, and neither are you two," I admonished them. "You are a prefect, Ronald, and the last thing we need is Harry skipping classes and getting into more trouble with Umbridge."

"But have you seen how much snow there is outside?" Ron said pleadingly. "We may not have snowball fight conditions of this caliber for the rest of the year!"

"You are a prefect!" I hissed again.

Hm. Ron and Harry have never invited me to skive off classes with them. Or engage in snowball fights with them. Have I become so undisciplined and relaxed about rule-breaking that they think pretty soon I will throw caution to the wind and start breaking school rules left, right, and centre?

Oh, speaking of prefects and breaking rules, Malfoy got a fantastic telling-off at the prefect's meeting on Saturday. Rob did not approve of school prefects engaging in taunting and poor sportsmanship at Quidditch games. At first I thought Ron would be embarrassed, but I think he thoroughly enjoyed watching Malfoy get reamed out. In fact, Ron was in quite a cheerful mood after the meeting, until I started saying how great it was that Rob let Malfoy have it, and that he was doing a fantastic job keeping everyone in line. Then Ron got all irritable for some reason and told me that if I didn't shut up about Rob he'd change the password, lock me out of Gryffindor tower for the night, and make it look like an accident (R. Weasley, personal communication, 11 November, 1995).

We were also told at the meeting that our prefect duties are going to increase as Christmas gets closer, and that yes, we will be the lucky ones helping Filch and Hagrid put up Christmas decorations at the end of the month (R. Brooks, personal communication, 11 November, 1995).

Argh! I am a terrible procrastinator! I left lunch early to work on the Potions essay and I am going to work on it!

_1:03 p.m._

History of Magic is going to start any second now and Ron and Harry aren't here yet. If they actually skipped class to have a snowball fight I'm going to kill them. Honestly, that sort of behaviour might be expected in first year, but we are fifteen years old and should be mature enough to resist the urge to start snowball fights every time it snows. Well, most of us should be, anyway. Most of the Gryffindor boys cannot yet be classified as "mature", especially Ron. This could explain some of his self-esteem issues, actually; it has been proven that early-maturing boys feel more self-confident and display better social adjustment than late-maturing boys (V. Crick, personal communication, during one of many lectures on the psychological effects of emotional and mental maturation, given at various points during my adolescence).

Oh good, they're here. Though late. And covered in snow. Honestly.

_5:47 p.m._

All right. Classes are over, and now I can settle in and finally get some serious work done on this Potions essay. At least Umbridge didn't show up again in Care of Magical Creatures today; I don't think Hagrid's received the results of his "evaluation" yet but there's no doubt that they'll be bad. What a detestable woman…that first Thestrals lesson was really good, too! I mean, sure Thestrals aren't cuddly bunny rabbits, but they're not that dangerous…

Okay, to work now…

Oh no. "WLA format?" Ron just exclaimed on the other side of the common room, obviously reading the instructions for the essay for the first time. "What the bloody hell?!"

_7:30 p.m._

All right, now that I have explained WLA documentation to Ron and have gotten him on his way with the essay, I can finally finish mine up and get to bed early…oh no, here comes Neville…

_8:56 p.m._

All right, no need to panic. There are at least two hours of solid working time left before I should head to bed. Now…argh Not the Serpent String again!!!

_9:03 p.m._

"Fred, George! I don't care if you're testing those things on yourselves or not; they're dangerous and they can cut off your circulation if you're not careful and I am not going to allow anyone to cut off their blood flow while I'm a prefect!" I hollered.

"Wow, Hermione," George said, touched. "We had no idea how much you cared…"

I slammed my books shut and stomped up to my dormitory.

Okay, finally some peace and quiet.

_10:00 p.m._

Lavender's in her bed sobbing hysterically. Anthony Goldstein chucked her and Parvati's still not speaking to her because she agreed to go out with Anthony Goldstein in the first place. Consequently, Lavender has decided she needs neither a best friend nor true love. However, this gritty resolution has not stopped her from weeping inconsolably.

_10:55 p.m._

The inconsolable weeping has dwindled to sniffles, and I'm sure I've seen her poke her head out from behind the curtains of her bed a few times to look at me expectantly. I suppose I should go over and talk to her.

_11:58 p.m._

After a tearful apology and a long-winded monologue on Parvati's part about love and loss, Parvati and Lavender are reunited. This is a very good thing for me, and a very bad thing for Anthony Goldstein, who is currently the subject of excessive ridicule and slander.

I'm far too tired to even think about finishing the essay right now…but its not due until Friday, so technically I still have plenty of time…

No! That's the sort of attitude that leads to procrastination! It is due on Friday! As in three days from today! Wait…its past midnight now, so its technically Wednesday…two days from today! Argh! How did I get so distracted today?

Oh, wait a moment, I didn't do my Weekly Goals yesterday…

Weekly Goals

1) Finish Potions essay before Thursday night! I refuse to be working on it the night before its due.

2) Make certain Ron and Harry finish their Potions essays before Thursday night as well.

3) Neville, too.

4) Try to find time to knit a few elf scarves and mittens (its officially freezing cold outside now).

5) Arithmancy checkpoint #6.


	18. Saturday, 25 November

**Author's Notes:** Hoorah, this entry takes place on my birthday. Hope you guys enjoy this one...don't worry, the saga that starts in this entry is continued in the next one.

To answer some questions:

_Urges_ - No I didn't realize I missed a number, gah. Thanks for pointing it out!

_Steph_ - Sadly, the parodies were taken down by The-Website-That-Shall-Not-Be-Named (ie. this one). I plan on putting them up on my site, though (see author's page). I sent the parodies to my friend, who takes care of the webpage because I am HTML illiterate, not too long ago. They should be up there soon.

_LJ Fan_ - Yeah, I realize the age thing is screwed up. But when I started the story I was assuming she was 14, so I can't change it now. Unless I go back and change Book 1. Which I'm too lazy to do. I do love the nitpicks though, they're so helpful!

_Potter-you-Rotter_- Welcome to the FU!

* * *

Saturday, 25 November (1 month til Christmas!)

_9:15 a.m._

Just got a letter from Mum and Dad:

_Dear Hermione,_

_How are you, love? No particular reason for this letter, but we hadn't heard from you in awhile so we thought we'd write. No doubt you're very busy with school, but try to find some time to write your dear old parents once in awhile, would you?_

_How's the weather at Hogwarts? It's been absolutely dreadful here; the schools were closed for three days this week because of the enormous amount of snowfall we got. Dad didn't think he was going to get out of the driveway Monday morning. But thankfully Mrs. Crick's new friend (or her "gentleman caller", as she refers to him) was around and helped Daddy shovel the driveway so that we could get to work. Lots of snow is good news for our skiing trip, though! Daddy went out last week and bought you a brand new pair of skiis. He also bought himself a fairly ridiculous multi-coloured hat which he insists on wearing in public. Do come home soon and talk some sense into him, for the sake of our reputations as respectable people._

_Hope school isn't too stressful for you, and that your friends are all well. Are you still writing Viktor? I hope Daddy's silly advice from before didn't scare you off or anything. He is such a nice boy, and I do hope you haven't forgotten him. You should buy him something quite nice for Christmas, since he got you that lovely watch for your birthday. It's difficult to find boys who are that thoughtful at your age, darling, so don't let this one go!_

_I know you get busy around this time of year, but write back when you get a chance. If you're finding you have too much on your plate (what with your Prefect duties and tutoring your friend Neville and your little Defense Against the Something or Another study group and all) just remember that you can't do absolutely everything, love. Don't get too stressed out…soon enough you'll be home for Christmas for a nice, long, relaxing, and hopefully hat-less break._

_Have a good weekend, sweetheart!_

_  
Love from, Mum and Dad_

_P.S. From Dad: Due to your mother having a monopoly over the writing of these letters, I am forced to express in post-script that the views presented in this letter with regards to a certain hat, as well with regards to as a certain Bulgarian man, do not necessarily reflect my opinions as well. Be a good girl. Love, Dad._

About halfway through the letter, I was painfully aware of Ron reading over my shoulder. I sighed and glanced over at him, annoyed. From the look on his face, it was obvious that at least one word within the letter had caught his eye, and it was most likely a name starting with "V".

"Got a letter, eh?" Ron said with unconvincing indifference as he returned to buttering his toast.

"Obviously."

"Who from?"

"Just my parents."

"Oh?" said Ron casually. "They have anything interesting to say?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact. They've both decided to quit their jobs and join the circus," I said sarcastically.

Across the table, I distinctly heard Harry snort from behind _The Daily Prophet_.

"I was just asking a question, no need to get all huffy," Ron retorted.

"I am not being huffy."

"Are too."

"Am not."

"Come off it, you two," Harry said in a bored voice. Ron shot me a look as if to say, "Are too" again and get the final word, and then returned to his toast. I got out my journal, and here we are.

I do feel rather badly about not writing Mum and Dad in awhile. I should really try to write them more often; Mum sounds sort of lonely. Plus, I haven't seen either of them since June. I think this skiing holiday is a very good idea for some family time, even if Dad bought an embarrassing hat and I'm not all that fond of skiing.

So Mum still has entirely the wrong impression of my friendship with Viktor, and Dad still thinks Viktor's some sort of criminal or stalker or something. That's nothing new. But I almost choked on my bagel when I read the part about Mrs. Crick's "gentleman caller"…

_9:30 a.m._

"What are you always writing in that stupid book?" Ron abruptly said a few moments ago, interrupting my musings on Mrs. Crick's "gentleman caller".

"Homework," I said vaguely.

"What homework?" Ron demanded.

"Arithmancy," I said triumphantly, knowing that Ron wouldn't dare delve deeper into an issue regarding Arithmancy, seeing as he is absolutely clueless in the Arithmancy department and therefore hates discussing it.

"Arithmancy," Ron repeated skeptically. He's spent the rest of breakfast trying to read what I'm writing over my shoulder. That boy is the nosiest person I have ever met.

Hm, it's nearly ten o'clock…the nosiest person I have ever met and I should probably head to our prefects' meeting.

_12:00 p.m._

Draco Malfoy is a disgusting, despicable excuse for a human being.

We were halfway through our meeting - Rob was talking about our extended duties during the Christmas season - when Malfoy evidently got bored and started talking to Pansy Parkinson in a low voice behind me.

"I got a letter from Father today…he's in close contact with Umbridge, you know, and he just wanted to let me know that he doesn't think it'll be much longer before that hairy oaf is sacked."

I clenched the arm of my chair and determinedly ignored him. I could sense his beady little eyes on my back; he was speaking loud enough so that I could overhear him, but Rob could not.

"It's the first step at purifying this sorry excuse for a school…half-breed filth and old frauds like Trelawney first…"

_Ignore him, ignore him, ignore him_, I chanted in my head.

I heard Malfoy's chair creak as he leaned forward so that I could make no mistake in hearing him. "...Mudbloods and Mudblood-lovers next," Malfoy whispered near my ear.

Now, it's bad enough that he used the M word; it's even more infuriating that his father is in cahoots with Umbridge, and that they're working together to get Hagrid fired; but for some strange reason, the thing that really set me off was the feeling of that foul creature's breath on the back of my neck. I can't explain why. But for whatever reason I abruptly spun around and yelled, "SHUT UP!" at the top of my lungs.

Rob halted mid-sentence, bewildered. Ron looked over at me in great surprise, and every other head in the room swung around to stare at me.

"I beg your pardon?" Rob exclaimed.

"Not you," I said, feeling my cheeks flush.

Margaret Hunter, the Head Girl, raised an eyebrow at me. "Are you feeling well, Hermione?"

"I'm fine," I muttered, humiliated. I could practically feel Malfoy gloating behind me.

"All right then…" Rob said slowly, and launched back into his explanation of our Christmas duties.

Perfect. Now the Head Boy thinks I'm insane, and Malfoy had the satisfaction of seeing me lose my temper. I am currently in a very foul mood and I know it and I don't care. I didn't even speak to Ron after the meeting; I just went straight up to my dormitory without saying a word to anyone because I was so embarrassed and infuriated. What makes the whole situation worse is that I'm constantly telling Harry and Ron to just ignore Malfoy, and I couldn't even follow my own advice.

Speaking of Harry and Ron, I think Ron's explaining what happened at the meeting to Harry right now. As if I'm not eating lunch right here next to them.

_12:35 p.m._

"…and then she stormed out of the meeting without saying a word to anybody," I heard Ron say as I was finishing the last entry.

"I'm right here," I announced loudly.

"Well sorry," Ron retorted. "I figured you were too busy writing in that bloody book again to bother explaining what happened yourself. What the hell are you writing about now? And don't try to tell me it's Arithmancy."

"Mind your own business," I snapped, slamming my journal shut. I stood up and walked out of the Great Hall.

"Huffy!" Ron yelled after me.

Prat.

_9:45 p.m._

Argh!!! Ron Weasley is the most infuriating boy on earth!!!

Incidents From Today Alone That Support the Aforementioned Theory That Ron Weasley is the Most Infuriating Boy on Earth:

1) He tried to read my letter from Mum and Dad.

2) He then tried to weasel it out of me that Viktor was mentioned in said letter.

3) He called me huffy (twice).

4) He pestered me about writing in my journal (twice).

5) He then tried to read my journal when I left it lying around in the common room!!!

After dinner, I was helping Ginny with her Arithmancy homework when I remembered that my Arithmancy notes from last year were in my trunk up in the dormitory. Ginny and I decided to run upstairs and get them, leaving all of our stuff (including my journal) on the table we were working at. After a few minutes of searching we finally found the notes, and then headed back down to the common room. I froze at the bottom of the stairs at the sight before me.

There was Ron, standing near our table, flipping through my journal with a puzzled look on his face.

"RON!" I shouted furiously.

Ron whirled around guiltily, the book still open in his hands.

"It's…it's blank…" he said, bewildered.

I marched over, snatched the book out of his hands, and then wordlessly stomped back up to my dorm. Ginny followed, which I wasn't aware of, because I nearly slammed the door in her face. She stopped the door with her hands before it smacked her in the face, though, and then calmly walked in. I was pacing the room, livid.

"That…that…disrespectful…prying…" I was too furious to even form a coherent sentence.

To my surprise, Ginny sat down on Parvati's bed and started laughing her head off.

"What is so funny?" I demanded.

"Did you see the look on his face?" Ginny hooted. "It's blank…'" She dissolved into laughter again.

I smiled wryly. "Well yes, that was quite satisfying. The charm on this book does come in useful…"

"We should probably go back down there, you know…I think you gave him a bad scare," Ginny said once her laughter subsided.

"I most certainly am not going back down!" I exclaimed indignantly. "He had absolutely no right to go snooping through my personal things!"

"Well of course he didn't," Ginny said. "But he's completely clueless, you know, and he's probably desperate."

"What on earth are you talking about?"

Ginny sighed and got up. "Never mind. Shall I bring my Arithmancy homework up here, then?"

I can't believe him. What sort of immature, insensitive prat goes through other people's things? Especially my journal. Well, he doesn't know it's a journal, of course, but I'm sure he at least suspects it…oh, great, now Ron knows I keep a journal and he's probably laughing about it right now.

Well, that settles it. If you like a person, you most certainly do not go through their personal effects and read their mail and call them huffy. Well, good. I wouldn't want someone who's so incredibly pigheaded and disrespectful fancying me, anyway.

Ugh, it's been an absolutely horrid day. I've changed my mind; I can't wait for that skiing trip so I can get out of here and get away from Ron and Malfoy and Umbridge and everything.


	19. Sunday, 2 December

**Author's Notes:** Hoorah, exams are finally over in exactly 2 days! SWEET, SWEET FREEDOM!!!

_Air of Mystery_, I laughed out loud at Ron's session with his psychiatrist. Excellent use of John Stamos! Speaking of Stamos, _FanFictionFantom_, I'm really still not quite clear as to why they took down the parodies. As far as I could discern, they violated some rule against using real people in a fic (ie. John Stamos and other random celebrity guest stars).

I rather enjoyed writing this chapter, and hopefully it will satiate everyone's R/H appetite for a little while.

**Edited to add:** Thanks to everyone who pointed out that it was _third_ year that Crooshanks supposedly ate Scabbers. Duh, I watched PoA only a week ago…I think it was just a typo or a mental blip on my part or something. But I fixed it.

Sunday, 3 December

_2:15 p.m._

I just haven't had any time at all to write in here what with decorating the castle, patrolling the halls with Filch (whom I accidentally called Mr. Grinch yesterday, probably because that's who I've been subconsciously comparing him to for the last few weeks…at least I could cover up "Grinch" though, it would've been worse had I said "Mr. Scrooge"), supervising the first-years on their break time, trying to get Hagrid to let me help him with lessons (with little to no success), tutoring Neville, knitting house elf clothes, the DA, and the truckload of homework the teachers have been piling on. I feel rather badly about not doing my Weekly Goals, but they haven't changed much in the past few weeks, and I have my homework planner for writing down my homework-related goals, so it's really not that bad.

I think the last time I wrote anything in here was when I was in that horribly foul mood that day Ron tried to read my journal, and I probably said some very nasty things about him. I'll admit that when I woke up the next morning I didn't feel half as angry as I had the night before, and I felt rather badly about my overall behaviour the previous day. I was just in a bad mood because of Malfoy, and then it was one thing after another…

Anyway, the next morning I woke up with every intention of forgiving Ron straightaway and not holding a grudge, because holding grudges is most certainly not conducive to achieving emotional satisfaction. So I dressed quickly and went down to the common room, which was mostly empty save for a handful of people playing Exploding Snap in the corner, and Ron sitting in front of the fire.

"Morning," I said, taking a deep breath and sitting down.

"Look, Hermione," Ron began hurriedly, before I could even launch into my carefully-planned forgiveness speech. "About last night…I really didn't mean to go looking through your diary…but it was lying there and I just sort of picked it up and it just sort of fell open…"

Like I said, I had every intention of forgiving Ron. I felt that our relationship had come a long way from the petty bickering and stubborn disputes of our childhoods.

But old habits die hard, I suppose. And he called it a diary.

"It is not a diary," I snapped.

"Oh," Ron said. "Well whatever - "

"What makes you think it's a diary?"

"I dunno, I just assumed…."

"And if it was a diary, which it's not," I said, standing up and feeling indignant again, "you would have absolutely no right to go and read it!"

"What's the big deal, all the pages were blank anyway!" Ron exclaimed, his voice rising.

The group playing Exploding Snap had stopped their game and were looking over with interest. A card exploded on the table, but they paid no heed to it.

"It's the principle of the thing!" I shouted.

"Well like I said, it was an accident! What more do you want from me?"

"You just accidentally happened to pick up my book and start leafing through it?"

"Well…not exactly…but if you weren't so bloody secretive about it - !"

"Well maybe you should learn to respect other people's privacy!" I yelled, and then stomped back upstairs.

I felt badly about the whole silly argument a few hours later, of course, but then Ron was being stubborn and wouldn't speak to me, so of course I had to be stubborn and not speak to him, either. I certainly wasn't going to be the one to make up; he was the one who had been trying to read my journal in the first place, and I didn't even get a proper apology from him. So to Harry's exasperation (thankfully he's not as moody as he was at the beginning of the year, or else I think he would have hexed the both of us by now), we didn't speak to each other for a week, except to say things like, "Pass the rolls," at meals, and usually even that ended in some sort of dispute, because then I would sarcastically tell Ron to try to refrain from snooping through all the rolls while he was passing them, and…well, it just got very ugly.

I could tell Ron was getting tired of it though, and quite frankly, so was I. I think we were both showing signs of wearing down by Saturday. It's not like it was in third year, where we went for nearly a month without speaking to each other because he thought that Crookshanks had eaten his traitorous Animagus rat. After a week it was just taking far too much energy to stay angry, and I guess I sort of…well, I missed talking to him, too.

The two of us got stuck on decorating duty together yesterday, and Ron made a few half-hearted attempts at conversation in order to try to re-establish the peace. I wasn't quite ready to forgive him without getting a sincere apology though, and I managed to stay cool and aloof, even when Peeves tried to strangle Ron with the tinsel he was putting up. That was probably excessively mean on my part, though, especially since that's the second time in five months that he's been nearly strangled by an inanimate object.

Of course later I felt rather badly about the whole strangling incident and my lack of sympathy during it, so last night I decided to talk to Ron after dinner and stop this whole nonsense. But Ron didn't return to the common room after dinner, and he was nowhere to be found all night. I worked on my Arithmancy independent study assignment checkpoint for awhile instead, then headed up to bed before Parvati and Lavender, because when they come up to bed all they do is gossip, and I can't fall asleep with them loudly bad-mouthing Anthony Goldstein.

I was about to climb into bed when I heard something hit my window with a dull thud.

"Pig!" I exclaimed, running over to open the window. Pig looked dazed, but hooted happily. "Why aren't you in the Owlery?"

Pig hooted gleefully again and held out one leg, which was weighed down considerably by a package. I untied it, and then Pig gave one last cheerful hoot and flew out the open window. I watched him fly over to the north end of the castle, back to the Owlery.

"Why on earth would Ron send me something by owl?" I murmured as I opened the (rather shoddily-wrapped) package. I raised an eyebrow as a small box of Honeydukes' best chocolate fell out of the wrapping paper, along with a note:

_Hermione,_

_Sorry I was snooping around in your stuff. Please don't be angry with me any more, it's annoying._

_Ron_

I burst out laughing so hard after reading this that a startled Crookshanks actually ran and hid under Lavender's bed. Only Ron could write a letter like that. Feeling inexplicably cheerful and pleased, I happily ate a chocolate.

Ginny popped her head into the room, wearing her nightgown. "Oh, did you get it?" she asked, grinning.

"Yes," I replied, and I couldn't help grinning back. "How did you know?"

"Because I know everything, of course," Ginny said grandly.

"But why did he send Pig?"

Ginny shrugged. "Guess he was too scared to give it to you personally. He had the twins sneak over to Honeydukes today especially for that, you know."

I tried to hide how pleased I was behind a disapproving frown. "The twins shouldn't be sneaking out of the castle, and Ron most certainly shouldn't be encouraging it."

Ginny laughed. "Well, I guess this means you two are going to be on speaking terms again, which is good. It was getting rather old. I'd rather have you two constantly bickering than not speaking at all," she said decidedly. With that, she turned around and went back to her own dormitory.

This morning Ron came down to the common room and blanched when he saw me. He coughed and then walked over to where I was sitting, reading _Swelling Solutions, and 800 Other Oft Misused Potions _(I'd picked it up from the library for some extra reading). He fiddled with a piece of Serpent String that was hanging over the arm of one of the armchairs, having somehow managed to escape the many Serpent String raids of the common room.

"Morning," Ron finally said in a strangled sort of voice.

"As I've said many times, you are a prefect, Ron, and you really shouldn't be encouraging the twins to break school rules," I said disapprovingly. But I could feel a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth.

Ron looked relieved. "Right," he said, grinning. "It won't happen again."

"Good," I said with a smile. "Thank you, though."

Ron shrugged and looked at the carpet, blushing. Harry chose that moment to come downstairs, yawning. He looked from me to Ron.

"You two speaking again, then?" he said briskly. "Good, you were driving us all mad."

So that's that. At lunch today Ron called me bossy and I called him thick and then Harry told us to give it a rest and two minutes later all three of us were laughing about how Umbridge spilled ink all over her front in Defense Against the Dark Arts on Friday.

I'm so glad everything's back to normal.


	20. Saturday, 9 December

**Author's Notes:** Oops, got my dates mixed up. Last chapter should've been the 3rd of December. I've fixed it now though.

Hope everyone had a Merry Christmas and/or Happy Holidays! I'm looooving my break!

I've had the idea for this chapter for a while...hopefully everyone enjoys it. I've also taken some liberties with the Hogwarts school system and their holidays, for plot device purposes. Term ends on a Wednesday, 5 days before Christmas, because I say so. I wish I had that kind of power over my own school's holiday break scheduling, but alas, I'll have to be content with changing Hogwarts'.

* * *

Saturday…9 December?

_Something a.m._

I can barely write…I'm shaking so badly…

Writing helps…breathe slowly…stop shaking…calm down…it was just a dream. Just a dream, just a dream, just a dream.

Okay…calmer now…just a dream…

I just had the most horrible nightmare. At first I couldn't even remember what it was about…I only knew that I was screaming and panicked and scared and my heart was beating so hard I could hear it in my ears. Then it started coming back in little bits and pieces that weren't in chronological order… Lucius Malfoy laughing… coming home for Christmas holiday…Mum and Dad lying on the kitchen floor…Umbridge with her clipboard…and then all of the sudden the little bits all came together in order and I started panicking again because it was so vivid that for a few seconds I was sure it really had happened.

I had come home for Christmas holiday, and when I walked into the front hall Mum and Dad weren't there to greet me, which I thought was odd, so I walked around the house calling them…then I walked into the kitchen…

Writing helps, writing helps, writing helps…and they were…lying on the floor…and they…weren't moving and they looked so pale and still…I've never seen a dead person before, not even on television because I always cover my eyes at those parts during films, but I knew they…they were dead…all stiff and pale but their eyes were still open and all glazed…oh, it was awful, awful, awful…and it wasn't _Avada Kadavra_, because there was blood on the floor everywhere, and it was seeping into the cracks between the tiles…

Oh, I feel sick…I can't write about that part anymore…

And Umbridge was there with her clipboard, making notes. And she shook her head and said, "Well if they'd learned the theory well enough, they should have been able to protect themselves," and Lucius Malfoy was standing near the sink laughing, his wand still out and pointed at Mum and Dad, and then he shrunk slightly and his hair got shorter and then he was Draco, still laughing. Then Draco pointed his wand at me and started walking towards me, still laughing Lucius' laugh, and then I started screaming and suddenly I was sitting up in my bed at Hogwarts, really screaming. I clapped my hands over my mouth to stop screaming and just sat there for a few minutes, breathing hard, trying to get my wits about me, and trying to remember what I was screaming about. Once I'd calmed down a bit more I fumbled in the dark for my journal, which was sitting on my nightstand, and then muttered _Lumos_ and started writing because writing helps. I'm already much, much calmer now, although still a bit jittery.

Amazingly, neither Parvati nor Lavender so much as stirred during this. In fact, Lavender just started snoring quite peacefully.

Okay, I've calmed down considerably. That dream was simply awful, though…probably the worst nightmare I've ever had. I don't know what could have caused it…I haven't even thought about Death Eaters on Arbour Court since the summer, when we were talking about the Boggart in Grimmauld Place. School's been distracting, and I'd almost forgotten what the real purpose of the DA was. It's so much fun and it feels more like a resistance to Umbridge now than training to defend ourselves from Voldemort.

You know, I only wrote Mum and Dad a very short letter in response to the one they wrote me a fortnight ago. I feel absolutely horrible now. I'm going to write them a nice, long letter first thing in the morning. Maybe the dream was just the product of a guilty conscience since the last letter I wrote was so short and to-the-point. Or maybe I'm just stressed out with school stuff and that got me all subconsciously riled up and -

Wait. I am psychoanalyzing my dream. I am not going to psychoanalyze my dream. I am going to forget about it and go back to sleep.

…Oh, it's no good, I can't go back to sleep now. Not with Lavender snoring like that, anyway. Perhaps I'll go down to the common room for a bit…

_4:50 a.m._

I don't really talk to Harry that much one-on-one…not about serious stuff, anyways. It's either the three of us together talking, or just Ron and I talking (usually worriedly about Harry), or Ron and Harry talking, because they're both boys and they share a dormitory and all. But sometimes Harry and I will have a serious "talk" - maybe not with so much actual speaking, per se, but…Harry just understands certain things. He doesn't say much, but what he does say makes you feel so much better. Did that make any sense?

I went down to the common room as quietly as possible, journal in hand, planning to just sit by the fire and try to relax and maybe get drowsy so that I could go back upstairs and fall asleep. I always get drowsy if I sit just so in the best armchair by the fire, so I figured it was worth a shot. But when I got down there, someone was already in the best armchair by the fireplace. The fire had actually died out and was just a pile of dully glowing embers by that indecent hour of the night.

"Harry?"

Harry jumped and spun around in his chair. He looked very tired and…I don't know…old. "Hermione?"

"What on earth are you doing up at this hour?" I asked, quickly hiding my journal behind my back.

"I could ask you the same thing," he said defensively.

I didn't really feel like getting into a fight with Harry at four o'clock in the morning, so I didn't snap back at him or anything. I just sighed and sat down in the chair opposite him.

"I had a bad dream," I admitted in a small voice.

Harry chewed his lip and looked at the fireplace again. "Me too," he muttered.

Neither of us said anything for a bit.

"Do you…have bad dreams a lot?" I asked softly after a few moments.

Harry was silent for a moment. He didn't meet my eyes. "All the time," he finally said in a low voice. He looked as if he was going to say something else then, but he didn't. He rubbed his scar and was silent.

We sat in a silence that was strangely comfortable for a few more minutes. I spotted a pair of yellow eyes peering at me from under the sofa, and was quite grateful when Crookshanks appeared and leaped into my lap. I started stroking him absently, feeling comforted by the big, furry animal in my lap. Then quite suddenly, something extremely frightening occurred to me.

"Harry," I said abruptly. "Peter Pettigrew was Ron's rat for three years at Hogwarts."

Harry looked at me blankly. "I know…"

"I mean…I mean that Ron had Scabbers with him a lot…and we talked about a lot of things that…well, Voldemort might…find useful," I said in a frightened whisper. "I mean, I must have mentioned where I live a few times when Scabbers was around…maybe he overheard…maybe that's why the Order picked me up and took me to Grimmauld Place this summer." I was starting to get panicked. "But my parents are at home with no one to protect them…what if they…what if he goes after my parents?"

"The Order won't let that happen," Harry said firmly. That was odd coming from someone who was rather bitter about the organization, mainly because they wouldn't let him join. But for some reason, I felt relieved hearing him say that. _Of course_, I thought, _just because you've been abysmally stupid and never realized it before doesn't mean that Dumbledore hasn't thought of it. And Ron promised…he said his parents wouldn't let anything happen to mine…_

"Yes, you're right," I said, taking a deep, calming breath. All the same, I'll be glad to go home for the holidays (end of term is less than a fortnight away…school ends on a Wednesday this year, for some odd reason). I'll just feel better being with Mum and Dad.

Harry gave me a strained smile and then rose from his chair. "I think I'm going to try to get back to bed," he said.

"Yes, that's a good idea," I agreed. "You have to work on that Astronomy assignment tomorrow morning."

Harry groaned, but he grinned wryly. I scooped up Crookshanks in my arms and got up as well. We both headed towards the staircases.

"Night," Harry said. He looked sort of sad and worn out. I gave him a hug, which didn't please Crookshanks, who got squished between us.

"No more bad dreams," I whispered to Harry. Mum used to always say that to me when I was small, after I'd had a nightmare. No more bad dreams was a promise from Mum, and a promise from Mum couldn't be broken, so the bad dreams went away. I don't know why I said it; it's rather silly. But Harry didn't laugh or anything.

"No more bad dreams," Harry agreed as we broke apart. He gave me another faint smile and then headed up the stairs to the boys' dormitories.

Like I said, I feel much, much better now, even though the thing about Wormtail is still bothering me a bit. But Ron promised…he promised his parents wouldn't let anything happen to mine…

Nevertheless, I'm going to write Mum and Dad straight away in the morning. For now, though, I should probably get to sleep.

Oh great, Lavender's started snoring again.


	21. Monday, 11 December

**Author's Notes:** Since these two chapters are fairly short, I decided to post them together. Two updates for the price of one, yay!

Happy New Year, everyone! But while you're celebrating with friends and family, please keep in your hearts and prayers everyone who was affected by the tsunami in southern Asia. They won't be having a very happy New Year, so please keep them in your hearts.

* * *

Monday, 11 December

_7:04 p.m._

There's really no time to be writing in my journal, but I haven't done my Weekly Goals in ages, and if there was ever a week I need to do them, it's this week. The teachers seem to be making up for the fact that we'll have no classes in only a nine days' time by piling on excessive amounts of homework. Our last (and consequently, largest and most difficult) Arithmancy checkpoint for the independent study is due at the end of the week. Harry, Ron, and I are supposed to do a presentation on Cleaning Charms on Thursday - not the most exciting topic, but after a month and a half of dodging the twins' Cleaning Charms gone awry at Grimmauld Place, we're quite the experts. Snape's giving us an in-class assessment on Wednesday, and we don't know what potion he's going to ask us to make. I'm sort of nervous because it's difficult to make say, a proper Stomachache Solution with Snape breathing down your neck. And if he makes you test it (as he is known to do), something like that could end up eating away at your small intestine from the inside if it isn't made properly. But I'm more nervous for Neville; he's really improved with all the help I've been giving him, but as soon as Snape shows up he starts fumbling with the ingredients and forgets everything he's learned, which is not good because I'm sure Neville would like to keep his small intestine.

We also have a Transfiguration test tomorrow on the transfiguration of microscopic organisms into macroscopic organisms (Professor McGonagall transfigured a dust mite into a rabbit last week; it was really neat, but is apparently extremely difficult to do), which I should in fact be studying for right now. But I really needed to take a break; today I was so stressed out that when Peeves started following me down the hall singing a rude and disgusting version of "Let it Snow" (which instead ended in "Let one go, let one go, let one go" and had to do with passing gas) I snapped and threw my Slinkhard textbook at him. Luckily, no one saw that.

Also as a result of the massive amounts of homework we're getting, I am down to my last three elf hats! What are all the poor house elves that I haven't set free going to do for Christmas? They'll be stuck here, cleaning chimneys and sweeping floors! I have to somehow make time to knit a few more clothes for them, or else I'll just have to double my efforts after Christmas.

I haven't forgotten the dream I had last Sunday night, and I've been writing faithfully to Mum and Dad (to their surprises, I think) every other day. Harry didn't forget either. Last Tuesday morning in Herbology, when we were trying to re-pot Horse Radish (which of course is nothing like the Muggle horseradish - magical Horse Radish tends to put up a fight when you try to put it into new soil, and does a great deal of neighing and braying in protest), he asked me about it.

"No more bad dreams?" Harry asked quietly, keeping his eyes on his plant. Ron was fighting with a Horse Radish plant that kept swinging up its roots at him, as if trying to kick him, so he didn't overhear.

I gave Harry a grateful smile. "No more bad dreams," I assured him. Harry smiled slightly in return and continued potting his Horse Radish. It was really nice and thoughtful of him to check up on me, and I'm glad he doesn't think I'm silly for being frightened because of a bad dream. But I think Harry himself might still be having nightmares. I wish there was something I could do to help him.

Weekly Goals

1) Study for tomorrow's Transfiguration test!!!

2) Do not allow Neville to lose his small intestine on Wednesday.

3) Convince Harry and Ron that we still need to work on Charms presentation - maybe get some visual aids? Do demonstrations?

4) Finish Arithmancy checkpoint.

5) Knit some elf clothes before the holidays!

6) Write Mum and Dad.

7) Write Viktor.

8) Start thinking of gift ideas for everyone (I've left it so late this year…when/how on earth am I going to get down to Diagon Alley to do my Christmas shopping?)

9) Somehow stop Harry from having nightmares (recommend a Dreamless Draught?)

10) Come to think of it, review the procedure for making a Dreamless Draught…Snape might have us make that one on Wednesday.

11) Get Slinkhard textbook back (not that I want it or need it, but Umbridge might give me detention or something for not having it in class, and I think Peeves made off with it after I threw it at him).

12) Sleep?


	22. Monday, 18 December

Monday, 18 December

_5:45 p.m._

Argh, it just never stops! Last week was project/random assessment week (good news - our Charms presentation went really well and although Neville's Babbling Beverage wasn't perfect, he did actually babble when Snape made him try it, although it was in a tongue that I'm not even sure is a real language and he didn't stop for three hours), and now this week seems to be pop quizzes week. Today Professors Vector, Flitwick, and Umbridge all gave us pop quizzes. The Arithmancy one wasn't that bad, and Professor Vector had hinted that she would give us one today, so I revised for it last night. The Charms one wasn't too difficult either. But I think Umbridge gave us one just to be nasty, and the quiz was so utterly pointless that I had to repress the urge to walk out in protest.

**Question 1:** According to _Table 4.1: Number of Cases of Misused Hexes in Britain in the Last 10 Years _(Chapter 4 of the textbook), how many cases of misused Bat Bogey Hexes were there in 1990?

And it wasn't even an open-book test! Even I didn't know that off the top of my head! The answer was twenty-four - I looked it up after class - but how is anyone supposed to memorize every number in every table in the text?! And the class read Chapter 4 nearly two months ago! SHE IS ABSOLUTELY RIDICULOUS!

What made it even worse was that I overheard Malfoy and Crabbe cackling about the quiz in Potions; Umbridge had given their class warning about the quiz, and she even told them which tables and figures to know from the text! That is totally unfair! If Malfoy gets a better grade on a quiz than me I'll never hear the end of it. And he'll know exactly what I've gotten because Umbridge reads everyone's grades out loud after she's marked a test or quiz, even grades from other classes. She says it builds character. I say she takes a perverted pleasure in humiliating the students who failed, the hag.

I never thought I'd say this but I really want to get out of here and go home for Christmas. Or rather, go on skiing holiday for Christmas. At least I'll be with Mum and Dad. I mean, I'm not the greatest skier in the world and I actually spend most of my time falling down, but I certainly can't tell Ron that now because he thinks skiing is so neat and that I'm some sort of expert.

"So you strap pieces of wood to your feet and then go sliding down a mountain?" he exclaimed incredulously when I was trying to explain the concept.

"Well, yes…"

"That's mad!" Ron said, but he looked at me rather admiringly.

"But it's not as if you just go barreling down the slopes; there's a technique to it, you see, and you control your direction and your speed," I explained.

"Still mad…" Ron said appreciatively.

He's been bugging me to tell him more about skiing every chance he gets because he finds it so amusing. I'll admit that it's sort of nice that he's paying me so much attention and that he thinks I'm so "cool" because I do something that he's deemed barking mad. But I'm running out of stories and I'm afraid he'll find out that I'm really not that great a skier and that I've only really done it a few times.

Only two more days! I don't think I'm alone in counting down; it seems like everyone's feeling quite resentful towards the place lately. All Ginny can talk about is seeing her parents and Bill, and her Mum's Christmas dinner. Harry's going to the Burrow for Christmas as well (although Ron forgot to tell poor Harry he was invited, so Harry was sulking about until Ron finally mentioned it to him yesterday, the idiot). I wonder if Percy…no, I don't think he will. Poor Mrs. Weasley. Christmas at the Burrow would be something…but I'm spending the holiday with my own family, of course. I can't believe I haven't seen Mum and Dad since June.

Weekly Goals

1. Learn to ski better (obviously there are no books in the library at Hogwarts pertaining to the subject…but perhaps I could pick something up when I get back to the Muggle world, or convince Dad to let me take lessons this time - with a real ski instructor, not him).

2. Survive barrage of pop quizzes.

3. Christmas shopping? (When? Where?)

4. Write to Viktor.

5. RELAX! (After Wednesday, of course).


	23. Tuesday, 19 December

**Author's Notes: **The greatest thing ever has happened to me.

_Edited to revise this statement due to Chibikat's false conclusion, based on the previous statement,that I had eloped with John Stamos. The SECOND greatest thing ever has happened to me._

For to an English credit...which contributes to my undergraduate Bachelor of Science...I have to read...

Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone.

I am _so_ excited. I'm going to be breaking out R/H evidence in seminar and everything. Maybe I'll read Harry Potter and Some Sorceror's Rock to the seminarwhile I'm at it.

Okay, anyways, that was all completely off-topic but I had to share my excitement with someone. Enjoy the chapter, andI hope no one's offended by the innuendo in the boys' conversation. I tried to keep it as clean as possible.

The next chapter's a doozy, by the way...it's shaping up to be the longest one I've ever written, I think. Sono one complain that this one is short.

* * *

Tuesday, 19 December

_11:45 a.m._

Boys are such oblivious, insensitive, stupid pigs. Particularly the ones I know.

Before I go into a rant, though, first of all - hurrah! Ginny got Seeker! I mean, this is sort of a negative thing for me, as that is now one less person I could potentially sit with at Quidditch games, but I'm really very pleased for Ginny. The looks on the twins' faces when she told them were absolutely priceless. And I know Ginny's very excited about it, even though she's sorry to be replacing Harry.

"Don't think he'll mind, do you?" Ginny asked as she, Ron, Neville, and I walked to tonight's DA meeting.

"Well they had to replace him with someone, right? He knew it would happen eventually," I said reasonably.

"Just…you, that's a bit…well, unexpected, isn't it?" said Ron, who was still a bit dumbfounded that his sister could play Quidditch at all.

"Very unexpected. Who knew I could play Quidditch?" Ginny said dryly. "Oh, there's Michael and his friends at the bottom of the stairs…I'm going to go tell him. Meet you guys there, okay?"

Apparently Michael didn't take it very well, though, as Ginny ranted about his lack of enthusiasm about the news for the remainder of the DA meeting.

We reviewed everything we've learned so far, which I think was a very good end-of-term lesson on Harry's part. Afterwards Ron and I helped Harry clean up a bit, but then Harry lingered behind, obviously due to a certain sixth-year Ravenclaw who was also finding every excuse to hang back. Ron and I gracefully bowed out.

Outside the Room of Requirement, Dean and Neville were still standing around, talking about their plans for Christmas. Ron and I stopped and talked to them for a little while, and then a few moments later, we saw Cho's friend Marietta sweep out of the room and brush by us (without a second glance at us nor a "Happy Christmas", might I add). I raised my eyebrows at her and then looked to the boys to see if they'd noticed this obvious rudeness on Marietta's part, but apparently they had not, because when Ron noticed me staring at them with eyebrows raised, he asked me if he had something on his face. Oblivious idiot.

Neville, Dean, Ron, and I started walking back to the Gryffindor common room, and I sort of tuned out for a bit (I was trying to mentally organize everything I wanted to put into my letter to Viktor, which I planned on writing when we got back to the common room). But when I tuned back into the conversation, it had taken a turn for the worse. This is the "boys are pigs" part.

"Marietta Edgecomb? Well sure, she's rather good-looking…most of those Ravenclaw sixth-year girls are," Ron said with a grin.

"She's not very nice though, is she?" Neville said. "I mean, in DA meetings she's always frowning or scowling at somebody."

"Is she?" Dean said mildly. "I don't really look at her face, if you know what I mean."

All three of them snickered.

"Excuse me!" I exclaimed, appalled. "I'm right here!"

"So?" Ron said, sounding puzzled.

I made an exasperated noise, shot him a very dirty look, and then started walking faster to speed ahead of them. I could hear Ron yelling, "What?" after me as I stomped off.

Of all the rude, dirty, insensitive things for them to say... right in front of me, too! Obviously Ron and Dean either failed to realize that such talk is highly inappropriate and offensive to girls, or they failed to realize that I am one. Of course, we must remember that Ron only realized that I am a girl last year; he may still be getting used to the idea (sarcasm).And Dean! You know, once upon a time I had respect for Dean Thomas…once upon a time…and now when I talk to him I'm always going to be worried that he's looking at my…well, you know…ugh.

When Ron, Dean, and Neville got back to the common room I was already scribbling away at my letter to Viktor, and coolly ignored them. Ron gave up on trying to engage me in conversation, shrugged and muttered, "Women," and then settled down on the rug to do his Transfiguration homework (which really shouldn't have been left until 8:00 at night to do, as it took me four hours to finish it this afternoon).

About half an hour later Harry came in, looking dazed. Ron's attempts to talk to him failed. I looked up from my letter in concern, thinking that Harry had had a confrontation with Umbridge or that his scar had started hurting again or something.

"Are you all right, Harry?" I asked in concern.

Harry didn't respond. Then I noticed that he didn't have the look of someone who had just had a horrific vision of Voldemort; he had the look of someone who had just been left in the Room of Requirement alone with his long-time crush …

"Was it Cho?" I asked matter-of-factly. "Did she corner you after the meeting?"

Harry looked surprised. He nodded mutely. Ron sniggered. I gave Ron what I have overheard him refer to as "the death glare", and he shut up.

"So - er - what did she want?" Ron asked casually.

Harry stuttered something incoherent.

"Did you kiss?" I asked.

Ron sat up so fast that his ink bottle went flying and spilled all over the rug. Harry seemed to struggle with himself for a moment, and then nodded. Ron started laughing hysterically, rolling all over the rug. Insensitive wart.

Harry then told us, sounding puzzled, that Cho had been crying when they kissed. Ron's laughter subsided and he frowned.

"Are you that bad at kissing?" he asked.

"Dunno," Harry replied worriedly. "Maybe I am."

"Of course you're not," I said absentmindedly, having returned to my letter.

"How do you know?" Ron asked sharply. Hm. If it hadn't been for Ron's comments about the good-looking Ravenclaw sixth-years earlier, I might have thought his tone was almost…jealous. Anyway, I made it perfectly clear that I have not gone around kissing Harry myself; rather, I knew that he was not bad at kissing because Cho is always crying these days.

When the two of them continued to showcase their utter lack of comprehension of the opposite sex, I set aside my letter with a sigh and patiently explained to them how Cho must be feeling right now: very sad about Cedric, confused and guilty about her feelings for Harry, worried about what people might think if they start going out, etc. The boys were silent and looked dumbfounded at the end of my little speech.

"One person can't feel all that at once, they'd explode," said Ron, looking bewildered.

"Just because you've got the emotional range of a teaspoon," I retorted, "doesn't mean we all have."

HA. I've been meaning to say that to him for a long time.

I just hope Harry was nice to Cho. But it seems like rather than offering her words of comfort or a shoulder to cry on, he just "sort of patted her on the back a bit". When I asked him whether he's going to see her again, he said that of course he would, because we have DA meetings. Honestly, he's almost as bad as Ron. Almost. At least Harry managed to kiss the girl he likes. Not that I know who the girl Ron likes is, and whether he's managed to kiss her or not…

Anyway.

When I patiently explained what I really meant by "seeing Cho again", Harry panicked and then fell silent. While Harry was contemplating the opportunities now open to him in the Cho department, Ron craned his neck to try to read the part of my letter which was trailing on the floor near him (it was quite long by then). I hitched it out of his sight. You'd think he would have learned his lesson about trying to read my private things after the whole diary/journal incident.

"Who're you writing that novel to, anyway?" he demanded.

I usually wouldn't dignify that question with an answer, but after his almost-jealous tone earlier, I think I subconsciously wanted to see his reaction. "Viktor."

"Krum?"

"How many other Viktors do we know?" I said coolly.

Ron said nothing and looked disgruntled as he returned to his Transfiguration homework, and I felt satisfied, though guilty for stooping to such a level. This has to stop; I'll never reach emotional satisfaction if I keep goading Ron and overanalyzing certain things he says/does and wondering about his kissing history.

Anyway, I finished my letter while Harry stared at the fire hopefully, as if willing a solution to his girl troubles to appear in the fireplace. I bid the two hopeless causes goodnight and then headed upstairs.

It was a good thing that Lavender and Parvati were already asleep, because I may have been tempted to have a bit of a "boys are stupid" rant session with them, and I refuse to stoop to their level of boy-bashing and giggling. Really, though…there's Dean with his pigheaded comments and wandering eyes, Harry with his complete cluelessness, and Ron with his insensitive, oblivious, ignorant stupidity. The only member of the opposite sex who proved to be somewhat intelligent tonight was good old Neville. Then there's always Viktor…smart, sensitive, reliable Viktor who writes me faithfully and doesn't mind reading my long-winded letters about trivial things at Hogwarts, even though he's an international Quidditch star.

You know, maybe Mum's right. I know I told Viktor when he left last year that I'd rather just be friends for now, but…maybe I should…you know…not let Viktor get away. He is terribly nice, and he's not at all like the immature prats around here. Yes…maybe this summer, if he comes to England to visit, like he keeps saying he will…well, we'll see what happens.

All right, time for bed. Maybe the boys around here will have gotten less stupid by morning.

_1:02 a.m._

If Ron had kissed some girl, he would have told Harry and I about it, right? And Ron wouldn't have been so curious and whatnot about Harry's kissing experience if he had kissing experience himself, right? And if Ron liked some girl, we would know about it, right? I mean, Harry never told us outright that he fancied Cho, but it was rather obvious. But Ron did say tonight that the sixth-year Ravenclaws are all good-looking…ugh, maybe he likes Marietta Edgecomb…

No, no, no! I am not going to dwell on this!

_1:16 a.m._

He did sound rather jealous when he thought I'd been snogging Harry or something, though. Maybe…

No! GO TO BED!

_1:20 a.m._

Yuck, how could he think I'd snogged Harry? No offense to Harry, but just…no.


	24. Wednesday, 20 December

**Author's Notes:** Here it is! The extremely, extremely, extremely long chapter! Seventeen pages on Microsoft Word, baby. I'm very proud of myself.

Just so you know, I had to take some liberties with the text for this chapter. First of all, the timeline was sort of screwy…according to OotP, Dumbledore told Hermione about what happened the night of Harry's nightmare about Mr. Weasley _two days_ after it happened. Seeing as this makes little to no sense, and that Hermione would probably be curious as to why Harry and all the Weasleys disappeared in the middle of the night, I took some liberties and had Dumbledore tell her about it the morning after. Also, there's a sort of "extended" scene in here, when Harry and co. are eating sandwiches at Grimmauld Place. The first half is from OotP, and the second half I made up. Just in case you're wondering about that.

Hope you all enjoy this chapter…I had to make up a lot of stuff based on the very limited information JKR gives us in Chapter 23 of OotP. Constructive criticism would be much appreciated. Here's hoping it's realistic.

Oh, and see if you can spot my nod to the movie actors in this chapter.

* * *

Wednesday, 20 December

_6:15 a.m._

I don't know what to do and I feel so helpless just sitting here…I can't believe yesterday I was so mean to Ron and Harry…especially Ron. I'm still not one hundred percent sure what's happened - everyone's stories are so contradictory. But Dean, Neville, and Seamus look pretty shaken up, and we can't leave the common room…

All right, I need to calm down and write everything down logically…maybe then I can make sense of what I know already.

I woke up very early this morning and I couldn't figure out why. It was about five o'clock, I think - the sun wasn't even up yet. When I woke up I felt sort of uneasy, like something was wrong…I can't explain it. Parvati was still asleep but Lavender was awake. This was when I knew something was wrong for sure; Lavender has never awoken earlier than she absolutely has to be up. She was standing by her bed in her dressing gown.

"Oh good, you're awake," Lavender said, sounding excited. "I heard voices downstairs…but it's far too early for everyone else to be up…I was just going to see what's going on."

I nodded and put on my own dressing gown, and we both headed downstairs. A handful of fourth and fifth years were standing around the common room, still in their night things. When Lavender saw the anxious looks on many faces, her excitement disappeared and was replaced by nervousness. I made my way over to Neville, Dean, and Seamus.

"What's up?" I asked, keeping a careful eye on Dean. If his eyes wandered anywhere below my neck, I was ready to slap him. But Dean seemed to be too nervous and worried to be looking anywhere he shouldn't be.

"Where's Ron and Harry?" I asked, a slight note of panic in my voice.

Dean and Seamus exchanged looks. Neville was the one who spoke up.

"They left a few hours ago, with Professor McGonagall," he said, sounding scared.

"What?"

"We heard Harry screaming in the middle of the night," Dean explained. "Ron kept calling his name and when he finally woke up he threw up all over the place."

"He kept insisting that…that Ron's dad had been…um, attacked," Neville continued hesitantly. I felt my heart leap. "He said Ron's dad had been…bitten, or something…we just thought he'd had a bad nightmare, but he was really ill so I went to go get Professor McGonagall."

_No more bad dreams_, I'd promised Harry. But this didn't sound like your average nightmare.

"He kept going on about how Ron's dad had been attacked and there was loads of blood, something about a snake…" Dean trailed off and looked uncomfortable. "He said…he said he did it…"

"He was raving like a lunatic," Seamus muttered under his breath.

"Shut up!" Neville said sharply. All of us stared at Neville in shock. Neville looked a bit surprised at himself too; he blushed and muttered an apology.

"Anyway, when Neville came back with McGonagall we figured she'd just fix Harry up and calm him down, you know? But she seemed to take him seriously, because she told him she believed him and then she took Harry and Ron with her to go see Dumbledore," Dean finished.

My heart was thumping so hard against my chest that I could hear it in my ears. "Where are they now?"

"Dunno. We haven't seen them since."

"How long ago was this?"

Dean and Neville exchanged glances and shrugged. "Two or three in the morning?" Dean guessed. "We didn't really look at the time 'til much later."

"Well, we have to find out what's happened," I said determinedly, heading for the portrait hole, even though I was only in my dressing gown.

"We've tried it already," Neville called after me. "It's locked."

True to his word, the portrait hole did not swing open when I approached it. I tried a few spells, but still it would not budge. I stared at the back of the painting for a while, trying to organize my thoughts. We've never been locked in before…

I don't know if Neville's and Dean's version of events is really what happened. But the fact remains that Harry and Ron are gone, and we are locked in the common room. Something very serious must have happened. Evidently whatever Harry saw was so convincing that Professor McGonagall, a member of the Order, took him seriously and brought him and Ron to the headmaster.

Gabriella Carpino, who shares a dorm with Ginny, told us that Professor McGonagall had evidently returned later on and had woken Ginny up to take her to the headmaster as well. Lee Jordan, who came downstairs bleary-eyed about an hour after Lavender and I, confirmed that Fred and George were not in their beds either, although he admitted that he had slept through them leaving.

Several other stories quickly began floating around, each more outlandish than the next: Harry and the Weasley children had been expelled, abducted, learned to Disapparate, etc. Honestly, hasn't anyone read _Hogwarts: A History_?

Based on Dean's and Neville's version of events, what seems to make the most sense is this:

Harry had a nightmare that was actually some sort of vision, probably due to his connection with Voldemort. In his nightmare, Harry saw Mr. Weasley being attacked, presumably by a snake - or rather, Harry was the snake, according to Dean. That bit is sort of confusing, and also quite disturbing, but at least the snake part makes sense. Voldemort's a big fan of snakes, after all, and I think Harry's mentioned that he keeps a snake as a pet.

I'm assuming that Mr. Weasley was guarding whatever it is that the Order has to guard, and that the snake attacked him in order to steal it. Professor McGonagall must have recognized this when Harry explained the dream, and so she took him and Ron to Dumbledore. She then must have come back to get the other Weasleys when Dumbledore confirmed Harry's story, which is what I am assuming he did. On her way out, Professor McGonagall must have locked the portrait hole. Maybe she was trying to prevent the missing students' friends from leaving to look for them…or maybe…maybe she's afraid something big has happened with Voldemort and doesn't want us running about the castle because it's not safe…

I hope Mr. Weasley is all right…I mean, I can't really tell from Dean's and Neville's descriptions if he was seriously injured…but I have this awful, sinking feeling that he was. Why else would Professor McGonagall have woken all the Weasley children and taken them away? It must have been…you know…life-threatening if she risked taking them out of their beds, especially under Umbridge's nose…

Oh my goodness. What if she woke them up because…what if he's already…dead?

I think I'm going to be sick.

_8:02 a.m._

Mr. Weasley's alive, thank heavens. But if it hadn't been for Harry…oh, I don't even want to think about it.

Only a few minutes after my last entry, all noise in the common room abruptly ceased as we heard an all-too-familiar voice outside the portrait hole. Her voice was a bit muffled by the wall, but we could make out what she was saying because she was speaking so loudly.

"No, I do not know the password," said Umbridge's foul voice impatiently, "but you must allow me into this common room at once!"

The Fat Lady said something that we couldn't hear very well, but it must have been a refusal to let Umbridge in, because we heard her shout, "Excuse me? Do you know who I am?"

The Fat Lady said something in what sounded like a very rude tone. Good.

"I am the Hogwarts High Inquisitor, and I order you to allow me into this common room now!" Umbridge shrieked.

The Fat Lady said something else, and we strained to hear Umbridge's response, which was in a very low and dangerous-sounding tone. Lavender cautiously crept forward to press her ear against the back of the Fat Lady's painting.

"Why's she want to get in so badly?" Neville whispered to me.

"She must know about Harry and the Weasleys. Maybe she's come to find out what's really happened. If she questions you, you can't tell her anything, Neville," I whispered fervently.

Neville nodded resolutely.

"My good woman, are you threatening me?" the Fat Lady exclaimed loudly.

Umbridge hissed something in response to the Fat Lady. Lavender abruptly jumped back.

"She's going to blast her way in!" Lavender cried. Everyone took a few generous steps back.

But the blast never came. Instead, we heard something even more surprising on the other side of the portrait hole: Dumbledore's voice.

"Ah, Dolores," he said good-naturedly. "May I ask why you're threatening the Hogwarts décor?"

Inside the common room, we all breathed sighs of relief. We heard a frustrated-sounding Umbrdige snap back at the headmaster.

"As I told you in my office a few hours ago, Dolores," replied Dumbledore (I think he was talking loudly on purpose, perhaps so that we could overhear), "I gave the Weasley children and Mr. Potter permission to leave Hogwarts. I received an urgent letter that Arthur Weasley had been badly injured and sent to St. Mungo's, and I felt that his children had the right to leave Hogwarts and visit him there. Mr. Potter is very close with the Weasleys, and so I allowed him to leave as well. I'm afraid the students in this common room won't be able to tell you much more than that."

Umbridge said something angrily.

"As today marks the last day of the term anyway, I did not think it would be such a great problem," Dumbledore answered, a hint of amusement in his voice. He sighed. "But very well. You can speak to the Gryffindor students if you wish. I believe it is _Christmas crackers_, isn't it, my good lady?"

The portrait hole swung open. Umbridge, wearing an ugly, fluffy, pink dressing gown scrambled into the common room, her face very red. She was followed by a fully dressed, calm, and composed Dumbledore. Most of the students gaped. You don't usually see Dumbledore outside of his office or the Great Hall, never mind in the Gryffindor common room.

"Ah," said Dumbledore brightly, looking around at the many students standing around the room in their night things. "Early risers?"

We all nodded mutely. I was dying to ask Dumbledore if Mr. Weasley was all right, but I wisely held my tongue.

"You there, Finnigan!" Umbridge said sharply, pointing to Seamus. "You must share a dormitory with Potter and Weasley. Where did they go? Why did they leave?"

I gave Seamus a look which clearly said that if he told Umbridge anything, I would curse him into oblivion. It must have been very effective, because Seamus paled slightly and then told Umbridge, "I don't know, Professor. We…woke up this morning and they were…er…gone."

Perhaps there's hope for Seamus yet.

Umbridge seemed to be extremely frustrated by this response. She questioned Dean, Neville, Lee, and the girls in Ginny's year, but all of them gave her the same response. This evidently angered Umbridge immensely, because she then whirled on me, eyes blazing.

"You!" she snarled, not even bothering to use my name. "You're good friends with Potter and Weasley, are you not?"

"Yes," I answered with as much contempt as I could muster into that one syllable.

"Well then, why did they leave their beds in the middle of the night?" she demanded.

"I don't know, Professor," I said coolly. "I generally prefer to sleep in the girls' dormitories."

Several people snickered. Umbridge's face turned purple with fury, and for a brief, frightening moment, I saw her raise her wand in a threatening gesture. The next second, Dumbledore was firmly grasping Umbridge's arm, the one holding the wand.

"Dolores," he said quietly. "I must tell you that if you ever point a wand at one of my students again, you will be very sorry indeed."

Umbridge snatched her arm away from Dumbledore, eyes bulging with anger. Her head swiveled around the common room as she opened and closed her mouth soundlessly. Then she made a furious noise and stomped out of the common room.

"Whoa," breathed Daniel Grint, a fourth-year boy.

"Miss Granger," Dumbledore said to me casually, as if nothing had happened, "I wonder if I could have a word with you in my office in…let us say…fifteen minutes?"

I nodded, trying to suppress the urge to ask about Mr. Weasley. Seamus may have held his tongue, but I didn't think it was wise to ask Dumbledore anything in front of everyone else.

"I must apologize for intruding into the Gryffindors' personal space," Dumbledore said, addressing the entire common room. "But Professor McGonagall is currently occupied, and I thought someone should prevent Professor Umbridge from blasting a hole in your common room wall. Good day to you."

With that, Dumbledore left the common room, climbing through the portrait hole in the most dignified manner one could possibly have when climbing through a portrait hole. Everyone burst into chatter the moment he left. I mutely climbed the girls' staircase and went into my dorm to dress. Parvati was just waking up.

"What's going on? What's all the…the…" Parvati yawned widely, "commotion down there?"

"Dumbledore just stopped Umbridge from blasting into the common room," I said bluntly.

Parvati was suddenly wide awake. "What?!" She leaped out of bed, threw on a dressing gown, and rushed downstairs.

I left the common room, which was all abuzz with chatter, and quickly walked to Dumbledore's office, anxious for news about Mr. Weasley. The hallways were deserted, as it was still only seven o'clock in the morning. I'd only been to Dumbledore's office once before - in third year when Professor McGonagall took me there to get my Time Turner and talk to Dumbledore about the consequences of its misuse - but I remembered where it was and how to get there.

When I finally came to the stone gargoyle guarding the entrance to Dumbledore's office, I stopped and felt very foolish. Professor McGonagall had given the gargoyle the password the last time I was there to make it move aside, and I very much doubted that the password had not changed in the past two years.

"Erm…?" I said.

"Hermione Granger? He's expecting you," said the gargoyle. "Nice slippers," it added with a snigger.

I looked down at my feet and silently cursed. I had thrown on my school robes, but had forgotten to change my slippers.

The gargoyles sprang aside, revealing the moving spiral staircase that lead to Dumbledore's office. I hopped on and waited, silently willing the staircase to move faster. By this time I was almost out of my mind with curiosity and worry. But I figured that Dumbledore would surely not have been so calm and composed in the common room if Mr. Weasley had died…

I knocked a few more times than was probably necessary on the door at the top of the staircase. When Dumbledore called, "Come in," I practically burst through the door. Dumbledore was sitting behind his desk. He scribbled something on a piece of parchment, which he gave to his pet phoenix. It disappeared in a burst of flame.

"Is Mr. Weasley…?" I immediately asked anxiously.

"Arthur is alive, and recovering," Dumbledore assured me with a somewhat weary smile. He must have had a long night.

I felt heady with relief, and took a few deep breaths before blurting out, "What's happened? How did Mr. Weasley get hurt? How did Harry know?" And then because I felt very rude bombarding Dumbledore with questions, I hastily added, "Sir?"

"I believe Harry himself can explain it more effectively than I. Suffice to say that his…connection with Voldemort proved rather useful, in this case. I very much doubt that Arthur would be alive now if it was not for him," Dumbledore said gravely.

"Oh," I said. What else do you say to something like that?

"But I asked you here, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said, "not only to assure you that Mr. Weasley is in fact alive, but to also extend an invitation on behalf of someone else."

I stared at him blankly.

"Harry and the Weasleys will be spending Christmas at Grimmauld Place," Dumbledore explained. "I was told to pass along the message that Sirius would be delighted to have you as well."

All thoughts of skiing abruptly vanished. If Mr. Weasley was hurt, perhaps I could be some help to Mrs. Weasley and Sirius at Grimmauld Place…or even just spend Christmas there to give Ron - I mean, Ron and Ginny and everyone - moral support.

"Tell Sirius thank you, and that I would be happy to come," I answered before I could have any second thoughts. But now that I really consider it…Christmas at Grimmauld Place…ugh.

Dumbledore nodded. "Were you planning on returning home for the holidays?"

"Yes," I replied, "but I can send an owl to my parents. I mean, they'll be disappointed, but if I explain the situation - "

Dumbledore shook his head. "I'm afraid I will have to insist that you not disclose your whereabouts to your parents. Unfortunately, our post system can no longer be trusted. Although I am not particularly fond of lying, especially to one's parents, I would appreciate it if you simply tell them that you are staying here at Hogwarts for the holidays."

This made me feel a bit uncomfortable, but it made sense. "Yes, sir," I said.

"Professor Umbridge is not very happy about students leaving before the end of term, it seems," Dumbledore said with a slight twinkle in his eye, "so I would suggest that you leave tonight, after term has officially ended. The Knight Bus should be able to take you to Grimmauld Place. You can catch it outside the Hogwarts gates. You have taken the Knight Bus before, correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"Very good. Well, Miss Granger, if you have no further questions, I think you should be heading down to the Great Hall for breakfast." He looked up and gave me a small smile. "Have a pleasant holiday."

I slowly turned to leave, but then a thought occurred to me. I turned back around. "Professor? Actually, I do have another question."

Dumbledore nodded for me to go ahead.

"Erm…" I began, suddenly realizing that my little fears were probably insignificant compared to all the huge things Dumbledore must have to worry about. "It's about…well, Voldemort…he went after a lot of Muggles last time, and…well, I'm very good friends with Harry, and…" I trailed off, feeling stupid. Ron had promised that his parents would not let anything happen to mine. Wasn't that good enough?

"Ah," said Dumbledore knowingly. "I assure you that the Order will not allow any harm to come to your parents, Miss Granger."

I don't know if that means that my parents are in danger, or if they're being watched by the Order, or what. Still, Dumbledore's assurance made me feel much better. If Dumbledore said that my parents are safe, then they're safe.

Now that I've had time to think about it, though, I'm starting to regret my hasty decision to stay at Grimmauld Place over Christmas. Mum and Dad are expecting me on the train home tomorrow…I mean, it's going to look a bit suspicious if I owl them today to tell them that I'm "staying at Hogwarts". I haven't seen them since June, and they really sound like they miss me in their letters. Even though I wasn't particularly looking forward to skiing, I was looking forward to spending some time with them.

But if Sirius is going to be having the entire Weasley clan for Christmas, he'll need as much help as he can get making that place habitable for the holidays. Mrs. Weasley probably wouldn't mind another girl around the place, either, and Ginny will almost certainly be thankful for more female company. Then there's Ron and Harry…well, Ron must have gone through quite the shock last night, and it wouldn't hurt to be there for…you know, moral support. And if Harry's having nightmares about attacking Mr. Weasley as a giant snake, no doubt he's beating himself up about it. They really need me there…I'm the voice of reason in our little trio, after all…

Oh no, breakfast is almost over - I should hurry and write Mum and Dad now, and hopefully the letter will arrive by this evening. I can't believe I have to go to classes after all that this morning. I'm going to have such a hard time concentrating; I still didn't get a straight answer from Dumbledore as to what exactly happened last night, so now I'll have to wait until I get to Grimmauld Place tonight to hear it from Harry himself.

Oh no, we have Umbridge today. She is not going to be happy after that episode in the common room…

_12:03 p.m._

I wrote Mum and Dad, and my letter sounds extremely suspicious, at least to me. It basically falls along the lines of: "Dear Mum and Dad, I'm so sorry but I think I'm going to have to stay at school over the holidays. Everyone who's really serious about exams is staying, and I don't want to fall behind. Love, Hermione". Brilliant, Hermione. Mum and Dad are going to hate you forever.

Strangely enough, the news of Harry's and the Weasleys' nighttime disappearance and the incident with Umbridge in the common room this morning has gotten old quickly. After the rest of our house found out, it became old news for Gryffindor, and before the story could spread to the other houses over breakfast, reports that Jeremy Druthers of Hufflepuff is now dating Emi Watson of Ravenclaw had emerged and were quickly pounced upon by the gossipers instead. I'm rather grateful for Emi and Jeremy's timing, actually; the last thing Harry needs is everyone gossiping about him again. At least Seamus is keeping his mouth shut; I think that I'm the only one that he, Neville and Dean told the snake nightmare story to.

Umbridge was surprisingly calm and collected in Defense Against the Dark Arts this morning; she didn't mention the incident in the common room at all and was actually acting quite smug for some reason. I have a bad feeling about this.

I'm going to bolt down my lunch and then go and pack, so that I can leave for Grimmauld Place immediately after Care of Magical Creatures this afternoon.

_12:14 p.m._

That's why Umbridge is so smug…there's two amended Educational Decrees up on the bulletin board in the common room:

BY ORDER OF THE HIGH INQUISITOR OF HOGWARTS:

_The High Inquisitor is hereby also granted access to all student common rooms along with Heads of Houses._

_No student may leave the school premises before the end of term without explicit permission from the headmaster, and are hereby also required to receive consent from the Hogwarts High Inquisitor._

_The above are amendments to Educational Decrees Number Nine and Number Thirteen._

_Signed: Dolores Jane Umbridge, High Inquisitor._

Lee took down the notice, ripped it into tiny pieces, and then enchanted the bits of paper to fall like snow over the common room. "Happy Christmas," he said brightly.

I think we could get in trouble for ripping up Educational Decrees, and as a prefect I probably should have stopped this. But I was only disappointed that Lee got to it before I did.

I'd better pack…

_5:05 p.m._

Well, term is officially over, and I'm all set to go. I'm just waiting in the common room for Neville to come down because we're going to take the Knight Bus together. Neville is meeting his grandmother in Diagon Alley, and I've told him that I'm taking it to Muggle London to go Christmas shopping with my parents. I'll just have to make sure he gets off before I do, because not even Neville would believe that there's good shopping in the part of the city where Grimmauld Place is located.

I got a letter back from Mum and Dad by Express Owl…they seem disappointed, of course, but not angry. They pulled the classic guilt trip on me, though. Mum even resorted to underlining words and multiple postscripts:

_Dear Hermione,_

_Well, it was a bit of a shock when we got your letter this morning. Of course we want you to do well, darling, and we understand if you need to stay at school to revise over the holidays, but it just seems like a rather hasty decision. Daddy and I had the entire holiday planned out, and now that you're not coming it's quite disappointing. We're so very disappointed that we won't be seeing you for Christmas; we haven't seen you since June, after all. We're also a bit concerned - is everything else all right, Hermione? Is there anything wrong at school? _(Oh, Mum and Dad…you have no idea…)

_Dad and I might still go skiing since we've booked the hotel, so you won't find us at home should you change your mind…are you absolutely certain you want to stay at school?_

_We miss you loads, sweetheart,_

_Mum & Dad_

_P.S. If it's because you don't like skiing, we really don't have to go skiing. We could spend a nice, quiet holiday at home if you'd prefer that._

_P.P.S.__ Perhaps you could even stay at Hogwarts for half the holiday, and then come home for the other half?_

_P.P.P.S.__ I've made Dad promise not to bother you if you come home and want to be left alone to study over the holidays._

I've owled them back assuring them that nothing's wrong and that I really would prefer to stay at Hogwarts, since the library is here and all. I feel sort of guilty lying to them, but…well, there's nothing else that can be done, is there?

Oh, I think Neville's coming downstairs. Well, to the Knight Bus, then…joy (sarcasm).

_9:49 p.m._

Well, I was right. Harry was beating himself up about the vision he had. In fact, when I arrived at Grimmauld Place, he had locked himself in Buckbeak's room.

After I arrived, Ron confirmed that Dean's and Neville's version of events and my deductions were pretty much accurate. Harry had had a vision in which he was a snake attacking Mr. Weasley, who was presumably on guard duty, though we still don't know where. They hadn't been able to get a straight answer out of Mr. Weasley concerning his whereabouts during the attack when they had visited him at St. Mungo's that morning (he's doing much better, apparently, though he still can't leave because his wounds won't heal and he won't stop bleeding). Had Harry not alerted someone immediately, Mr. Weasley may very well have died.

Then Ron informed me in a hushed tone that at St. Mungo's they had overheard (Fred and George had brought the Extendable Ears back into action, no doubt) Mad-Eye Moody say that Voldemort is possessing Harry.

"So," I said to Ron and Ginny as we climbed the stairs, "Harry thinks that Voldemort - "

Ron winced.

" - is possessing him, and that he somehow turned him into a snake and transported him to London and back again in the span of a mere five or ten minutes? I mean, Voldemort - "

Ron's whole body twitched.

" - is powerful, but not that powerful. I highly doubt even Voldemort - "

Ron looked as if he wanted to say something, but clenched his teeth and held his tongue.

" - could do that."

"Well, Harry's got it in his head that he's the one who attacked Dad and now he won't speak to anyone," Ginny explained. "He went straight upstairs when we came back from St. Mungo's and hasn't come down since."

"Oh, honestly," I said, pausing on the landing. "Why don't you two wait someplace? I'll convince him to come down and then we'll sit him down and have a talk with him."

"Okay…I think Mum lit a fire in Harry's room earlier and sent up some sandwiches in the hopes that Harry would come back to his room and eat something," Ginny said. "So we'll meet you guys there."

"Good luck getting him out of there," Ron said doubtfully.

I went up to Buckbeak's room and rapped smartly on the door. "I know you're in there. Will you please come out? I want to talk to you."

Harry opened the door, clearly shocked to see me. "What are you doing here?"

I explained that Dumbledore had told me what happened and that I'd cancelled my skiing plans to come and spend Christmas here. We walked back down to Harry's bedroom, where Ron and Ginny were waiting. Harry seemed surprised to see them and a bit suspicious, as if I had planned some sort of intervention on his behalf, but he stayed.

"So," I asked in a business-like way after we were all settled, "how're you feeling?"

"Fine," Harry lied.

"Oh don't lie, Harry. Ron and Ginny say you've been hiding from everyone since you got back from St. Mungo's."

"Well you have!" Ginny said when Harry looked sour. "And you won't look at any of us!"

Harry insisted that it was them that wouldn't look at him. I suggested they were both taking it in turns and kept missing each other.

Harry eventually got quite irritated and nasty, as he often does when he starts feeling all misunderstood and angst-ridden. "I didn't want anyone to talk to me," he snapped.

"Well that was a bit stupid of you," Ginny said angrily, "seeing as you don't know anyone but me who's been possessed by You-Know-Who, and I can tell you how it feels."

There was a long silence in the room. No one quite knew what to say to that.

Harry looked as if someone had slapped him. He finally muttered, "I forgot."

"Lucky you," Ginny said coolly. (Ginny: 1, Harry: 0)

"I'm sorry," said Harry, and he looked like he really meant it.

We established that Harry is, in fact, not being possessed by Voldemort. I had to explain again that even Voldemort couldn't make Harry fly out of his dormitory…honestly, if it wasn't so expensive, I'd buy both him and Ron - and possibly the rest of Gryffindor house - their own copies of _Hogwarts: A History _for Christmas.

Once Harry was convinced he was not being possessed and had not attacked Mr. Weasley, he did a complete turn around. He started hungrily cramming sandwiches into his mouth, and then flopped onto his bed, obviously relieved. Outside Harry's room we could hear Sirius singing.

"He's really into this Christmas thing, eh?" Ron said, the corners of his mouth turning up.

"Well he's been all alone for months now. He must be thrilled to have us," Ginny said wisely. "I just wish Dad would be out of the hospital for Christmas, but I don't think that's going to happen. His wounds won't stop bleeding," she told me. "They think it's the snake venom or something."

"He's taking a Blood-Replenishing Potion every hour though, and the Healers are working on an antidote," Ron said.

"Well that's good," I said optimistically. "Maybe he'll be out for New Year's, at least."

"So you're staying for sure, then?" Ron asked tentatively. "For the whole holiday?"

"It looks like it."

"You said Dumbledore talked to you, Hermione," Harry piped up, still dangling upside down from his bed. "Did he - er - say anything?"

"Well, one tends to say a great many things when talking to people," I answered dryly.

"You know what I mean."

"No, nothing you don't already know." I didn't really see a point in bringing up what Dumbledore said about my parents…they would just think I was being silly or selfish, to worry about my parents when Mr. Weasley was bleeding non-stop at St. Mungo's. "Umbridge was really angry that you all disappeared in the middle of the night, though."

"Why, what'd she do?" Ron asked.

"Erm…" I tried to decide if I should tell Harry about what happened this morning. He seemed to be in a better mood, but I didn't want to upset him again, so I tried to give a shortened version of events. "She sort of tried to get into the Gryffindor common room to question everyone - "

"What?" Harry sat up quickly.

"Well you lot had disappeared in the middle of the night, and we all woke up to find you missing and were rather confused and worried so we were all talking about it in the common room…" I said very fast.

"Oh, great," Harry groaned, flopping back down on his bed. "Did the others tell everyone about me thrashing about in my sleep and ranting about snakes? Everyone's going to think I'm even more of a nutter now."

"Don't worry, I don't think Dean and Neville told anyone else about the nightmare thing but me. Actually, by breakfast, most people sort of forgot about the fact that you lot had disappeared. Emi Watson and Jeremy Druthers started going out," I explained, rolling my eyes.

"Really? Those two?" Ron said in surprise. "But I thought Emi hated Jeremy…"

Everyone stared at Ron. He cleared his throat and became very busy eating a sandwich.

"And no one thinks you're a nutter, Harry," I continued. "Well, except Seamus."

"Surprise, surprise," Harry muttered darkly.

"But he didn't tell Umbridge anything. And Neville told him to shut up when he called you a lunatic," I said optimistically.

Everyone looked impressed with Neville.

"So, wait," Ginny said, knitting her eyebrows together. "Seamus didn't tell Umbridge anything? Did she eventually get into the common room?"

I sighed and went back to the beginning of the story, seeing that I wasn't going to get away with skipping details about the events of this morning. Harry didn't get too upset, thankfully, and everyone looked quite shocked when I finished my story.

"Wow," said Ginny. "She actually pointed her wand at you? What did she think she was going to do, curse you right in front of Dumbledore?"

I was going to point out that I didn't think she was actually going to try to hit me with a spell or anything - raising her wand was more of a threatening gesture to get me to talk. But before I could say this, Ron interrupted.

"Hermione probably would have cursed Umbridge stupid before that old toad could even get a jinx out, even if Dumbledore hadn't been there," Ron said with a hint of admiration in his voice. I blushed.

There's something I left out…I didn't really want to write about it before because it was rather silly of me and I hate admitting to doing silly things, even to my own journal. But it was rather important…and even if it was silly, he…well, let me go back and explain.

I got to Grimmauld Place about six o'clock, and not thinking, I rang the doorbell. It set off Mrs. Black's shrieks immediately, of course. Oh well, if the doorbell didn't alert everyone to my presence, Mrs. Black sure did.

Sirius answered the door. "Hermione!" he said, beaming at me while Mrs. Black shrieked in the background. He was holding tinsel in his one hand and boughs of holly in the other. "So glad you could come! Come in, come in!"

I dragged my bags inside and tried to ignore Mrs. Black screaming about how I am a child of filth. "Happy Christmas to you too, Mum," Sirius said cheerfully as he managed to close the curtains over her portrait.

"I think Ron's in the drawing room. I'm not sure where Ginny's gone off to, and Harry's upstairs," Sirius explained. "Here, I'll take your bags up to your old room. I've got to go and decorate up there anyway." He grinned as he held up the holly and tinsel. "So great to have you, did I say that already?"

Sirius pulled out his wand and got my bags levitating up the stairs, and then marched after them singing "O Little Town of Hogsmeade". I stared after him, astounded at the change in him since the summer, and then made my way towards the drawing room.

Ron was outside the drawing room, trying to put a wreath on the door, but the door would not have it. It kept slamming shut, and then the wreath would fall off. Ron cursed and tried again.

"Hi," I said. Ron jumped and dropped the wreath, and then spun around.

"Hermione!" he said in surprise. "What - I thought - skiing - "

He looked a bit paler than usual, and there were large bags under his bloodshot eyes, probably from staying up all last night. And I thought: What must it be like to wake up in the middle of the night to your friend screaming about how your dad's been attacked, and then to sit up all night, waiting to hear if he's alive or dead? It must have been an absolute nightmare…not knowing whether his father was going to die or not, and to just have to sit there, waiting and waiting…

Before I knew what I was doing, I had taken two quick steps forward, had flung my arms around Ron's middle, and was giving him an enormous hug. Ron went all rigid and seemed surprised at first, but after a few moments, rather than pulling away and looking frightened like he usually does, he tentatively wrapped his arms around me and hugged me back. And it was so…so nice. I was still cold from being outside and he was so warm…and he smelled really nice, like pine or something, maybe from the wreath…and there was this little spot between his neck and his shoulder where my head fit just right, and I sort of rested it there…and I suddenly understood why I hadn't "snatched up" smart, mature, sensitive Viktor. It's because - let's admit it and accept it, once and for all - I have more-than-friendly feelings for stupid, immature, oblivious Ron.

For a moment it was perfect…I didn't want to say anything for fear of spoiling it, but I thought I should explain why I had practically jumped him in the drawing room of Grimmauld Place.

"Um," I said. Ron immediately released me and looked embarrassed, and I mentally kicked myself for saying anything at all, because I…well, I didn't want it to end. "You looked really…you know, worn out…and I thought you could use…I'm really sorry about your dad."

"S'all right," Ron said, and his voice was kind of husky. Actually, I sort of…liked the sound of it. "He's okay now."

We both stood there stupidly for a moment, avoiding each other's gazes.

"Sirius invited me to stay too," I explained unnecessarily.

"But what about skiing?" Ron asked, shocked.

"Oh…we'll go another time, I'm sure," I assured him. I didn't tell him that I didn't really want to go skiing anyway, but I didn't want to disappoint him because he thought it was so fun. "I thought your Mum might need some extra help around here…" I suddenly felt very bold. "And…I thought you might - "

"Hermione!" said Ginny, who had appeared in the hall behind me. She came over and gave me a hug. "What are you doing here?"

I explained that Sirius had invited me to stay again, and then inquired about Harry, and that's when they told me everything and we started heading upstairs. I was going to say to Ron, "And I thought you might like if I came," just to see what his reaction would be, but I'm really glad that I didn't now. All right, so I might fancy Ron a bit more than I initially admitted. But that doesn't mean I'm going to do anything about it. Ohhh no, I'm not going to risk our friendship by blurting out something stupid like, "So Ron, I have an enormous crush on you, fancy a go at dating?" He'll think I'm mad. Or worse, he won't want to be friends anymore. No, no, no, I'm going to deal with it on my own and hope that it eventually goes away. Then maybe I can achieve emotional satisfaction.

Anyway, we sat up talking in Harry's room for awhile, and then the three of them decided to go to bed early, since they'd gotten very little sleep the night before. So, here I am, back in my old room at Grimmauld Place, writing in my journal by wand-light with Ginny fast asleep in the bed next to me while I ignore the fact that there's a Scrantula scuttling about here someplace.

It's good to be back (sarcasm).

* * *

**My Divinest**: Yes, I will probably write a parody of OotP. Someday. 

**Q-BriarXJade-Q**: Welcome to the wonderful world of fangirls!

**slytherinphoenix7**: I agree, constructive criticism is the best praise! Thanks!

**Slide**: Cool! Where can I see the cover you made for The Sorceress Diaries?

**FanFictionFantom** "any chance u could alter it so sirius doesnt die and its all one big hoax?" - I wish. Sigh. 


	25. Friday, 22 December

**Author's Notes:** Thanks to everyone who keeps reviewing! I really appreciate your constructive criticism. Something that keeps popping up is how it's a bit problematic when Hermione is writing in her diary at inappropriate or strange times - ie. at the Quidditch match. But it's hard for me to create a sense of suspense and whatnot if I don't do this. Does anyone have any ideas on how I could improve this? Any suggestions would be greatly appreciated! I'm thinking of posting the TSD series on the Sugar Quill, so I need all the feedback I can get!

I'll put my little responses to reviews at the end of the chapter again, as they're probably getting distracting in the author's notes.

By the way, the HP movie references in the last chapter were the names Daniel Grint (Daniel Radcliffe + Rupert Grint) and Emi Watson (Emma Watson).

10 days until I get to go to sunny Aruba! Let us rejoice and be glad.

* * *

Friday, 22 December

3 days until Christmas!

_8:20 a.m._

My Christmas present crisis has been averted! Yesterday Tonks, Mrs. Weasley, Ginny, and I were decorating the entrance hall, and Tonks mentioned that she was planning to go to Diagon Alley on her day off (today) to do her Christmas shopping.

"On the Friday before Christmas?" Mrs. Weasley whispered in a shocked voice. We had been talking in hushed voices ever since we had awoken Mrs. Black a few moments earlier. She screamed and howled something awful when she saw the magical snow we were strewing about, and it took us twice as long as usual to close the curtains over her portrait.

"I know, bit early for me," Tonks said cheerfully. "Usually I leave it to Christmas Eve, at least."

"Oh, Tonks!" I said, a stroke of brilliance suddenly hitting me. "Could you take us as well? I haven't done any of my Christmas shopping and I was really beginning to panic!"

Tonks thought it was a great idea, but Mrs. Weasley was against it at first. She kept listing all sorts of problems we would have in getting there, and the difficult questions we'd have to face if we saw anyone we know in Diagon Alley, and how it's dangerous for Harry to go "traipsing about London". But Tonks and I appealed to Mrs. Weasley's soft spot for Harry ("He really deserves to go out and get some fresh air, after all he's been through") and we convinced her in the end.

So we're going this afternoon, hoorah! Tonks is going to borrow her father's car (her father is Muggle-born, and apparently still owns a car for "sentimentality's sake") to take Ginny, Harry, Ron, and I down to Diagon Alley. The twins aren't coming; they said that they already have Christmas presents for everyone. This is not encouraging, because I know for a fact that they would not have had a legitimate opportunity to go Christmas shopping any more than the rest of us, and so that probably means that their presents are homemade and are most likely of a destructive nature.

I've never been to Diagon Alley around Christmas, and I can't wait to see the street all covered with snow and decorated with Christmas things. Sirius's attitude is infectious; everyone's in a cheerful, Christmassy mood, and we've all been happily cleaning and decorating Grimmauld Place the last few days. Mundungus even managed to get us an enormous Christmas tree (although the details surrounding the procurement of said tree are very sketchy), and Sirius decorated it with real, live fairies. The only thing is that the fairies have a rather annoying habit of zooming out of the tree when I get too close to it and then try to nest in my hair, so I can't go within a five foot radius of the tree anymore.

Everyone's been in a relaxed, sleeping-in sort of mood since I came here. Everyone's probably still asleep right now, except perhaps Mrs. Weasley. I can smell her cooking something delicious for breakfast from here. I don't feel much like getting out of bed though; I'm sitting up with my pillow behind my back and my blankets wrapped around me all snug and it's all very comfortable. In fact, I feel very Christmassy right now, what with the with the smell of the evergreen tree and Mrs. Weasley's cooking wafting up here and the thought of Christmas shopping in Diagon Alley later today, hoorah!

Hm, I should probably make a list of what I want to get for everyone before we go, just so I know what I'm looking for…

Christmas Gift Ideas

Mum: Something not too magical, if I can manage it. I know she's still a bit uncomfortable with explicitly magical things. _The Worldly Witch_ has some very pretty jewelry that isn't charmed or anything, as far as I know, so perhaps I'll look there.

Dad: Hat (not multi-coloured). Ooh, maybe I'll knit him one, now that I've gotten so good at it! Dad would get a kick out of me magically knitting his present.

Crookshanks: Catnip!

Harry: Umm...

Ron: Erm...

Viktor: No idea whatsoever.

Ginny: I think I'll buy her something Quidditch-related, now that she's made the team…

Tonks: I haven't known Tonks that long, but she was here a lot in the summer (I think she likes to keep Sirius company when she can) and she spent a lot of time with Ginny and I. Plus, she's taking us all to Diagon Alley on her day off, so I should really get her something. But what do you buy for a Metamorphmagus? Maybe I'll knit her something, too…Tonks would appreciate a creative, handmade present.

Kreacher: The others might think this is silly, but Kreacher deserves a Christmas present as well. Not clothes, of course…Sirius would kill me. But I've heard Sirius mention that Kreacher has a sort of…den in the kitchen…I could, of course, knit him something. A blanket, or a quilt, or something of the sort…

Sirius: I really should get something for Sirius too, seeing as he invited me to stay for Christmas and all, and he let me stay here almost all summer, too. But what do you buy for an ex-convict who spends a great deal of his time as a dog? I can't even think of anything to knit for Sirius.

Well, this isn't very good. All I've determined from this list is that I'm going to have to buy a lot of yarn, and that I have no idea what to get for fifteen-year-old boys, international Quidditch stars, Metamorphmagi, and ex-murderers.

Actually, Sirius wouldn't be an ex-murderer, would he? He never murdered anyone in the first place.

_9:30 p.m._

Ohhhhhh…my feet are so sore and my arms ache from carrying around all those bags and from getting continuously jostled by people and why oh why did I want to go shopping in Diagon Alley three days before Christmas?

Diagon Alley was not at all peaceful and cheery and Christmassy like I pictured it. No; instead it was a mad zoo of frenzied, last-minute shoppers who resorted to pushing, shoving, hexing, jinxing, and whatever else they needed to do in order to get the perfect gift. Most wonderful time of the year, indeed. Bah humbug.

We had agreed to meet Tonks a few blocks from Grimmauld Place this afternoon. Obviously it would not be very surreptitious if Tonks pulled up right in front of Headquarters and started honking the car horn. So after lunch, Mrs. Weasley walked with Ginny, Ron, Harry, and I to a mailbox on the corner of Baggend Court, which was the agreed meeting place.

"And mind your purses," Mrs. Weasley fretted. "Even the most reasonable witches and wizards go mad during the holiday season…"

I thought this was a bit of an overstatement, in my blind naiveté. "We'll be fine, Mrs. Weasley," I assured her.

Mrs. Weasley bit her lip and glanced at Harry, who was busy talking to Ginny. She lowered her voice and bent closer to Ron and I. "You two keep an eye on Harry, won't you? Don't let him out of your sights."

Just then, we heard a terrible screeching noise, like the sound made by a dying cat. A dying cat which is experiencing a very slow and painful death. With great trepidation, we watched a squarish-shaped, rust-coloured old car come tearing down the street. I don't pretend to know much about automobiles, but it was clear that this one was slightly past its prime. And it was missing a fender.

The car, peeling paint and all, screeched to a halt in front of us. Inside, Tonks, wearing her hair bright green (perhaps to be festive?) waved cheerily and reached over to manually unlock the passenger door.

I looked over at Mrs. Weasley. She looked as if she had swallowed something very unpleasant-tasting.

"Bye, Mum!" said Ginny brightly, hopping into the passenger seat. Before Mrs. Weasley could say anything, Ron had ushered Harry and I towards the car, and before I knew it we were tearing down the street at some ungodly speed with Mrs. Weasley hollering, "NYMPHADORA TONKS, YOU KEEP AN EYE ON THOSE CHILDREN!" at the fender-less rear of the car.

I have never, ever in my life had a worse driving experience, including the times I have ridden the Knight Bus and that one time when I was eight when Dad went through a do-it-yourself phase and hammered a nail into his thumb, and then an extremely frenzied Mum had to drive him to the hospital and I somehow got dragged along. Tonks is by far the worst driver I have ever had the misfortune to be in an automobile with. She drove at twice the speed limit the entire way, ran every single stop sign and a great deal of red traffic lights, and dodged in and out of traffic. I think she used a bit of magic to ensure that we did not meet our untimely dooms, because I could have sworn that the car magically shrunk to fit between two lorries at one point.

I sat very rigidly between Harry and Ron in the back seat, occasionally clutching their arms (to several "Ow, Hermione!"'s) when we made a particularly dangerous swerve or turn.

"How old's this car, Tonks?" Ginny yelled over some very loud rock music that Tonks had blaring from the radio.

"What's that?" Tonks hollered back, narrowly missing a pedestrian who was crossing the road.

"HOW - OLD - IS - "

"Oh! This old piece of rubbish?" Tonks responded, turning down the music ever so slightly. "She's been in the family since the 60's, but she's still in great working condition. Aren't you, Mabel?" she said fondly, patting the dashboard.

"Mabel?" I choked out. But then I shut my mouth and my eyes, because Tonks was about to take a sharp corner at an alarming speed.

When we finally arrived I was dizzy, faint, all cramped up from being squished between two boys, and slightly nauseous.

"All right," Tonks said, screwing up her face. In the rearview mirror, I watched her nose lengthen and freckles appear across the bridge of it. Her eyes became larger and green, and her face became longer and thinner. Her hair lengthened past her shoulders and turned bright red. "Now remember, if anyone asks, I'm Ron and Ginny's older cousin Nora. We all stick together, and if anyone gets into trouble, send up red sparks, okay?"

"Just in case Voldemort's down here doing a bit of Christmas shopping," said Harry wryly. Ginny laughed, Ron shuddered at the name, and I probably just looked sick from the car ride.

Tonks parked in a side alley a few blocks away from the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron, so we had to walk quite a distance. Due to my cramped legs and dizziness, I had to wobble along gripping Ron's arm for support most of the way. His arm was probably already all bruised from me clutching and squeezing it on the car ride over, so I thought it was rather nice of him to just clench his teeth and not say anything while I continued clutching his arm for support while the nausea passed.

To make matters worse, London was not at all snowy and peaceful and lovely like it is supposed to be at Christmas. First of all, it started snowing - hard - once we got out of the car - those little, icy pellets of snow that sting your face and get caught in your hair and then melt, thoroughly soaking your head. Secondly, the sidewalks and the roads were not covered in pure, unspoiled, white snow but with dirty, slushy stuff that we would occasionally get sprayed with if a car went by us at high speed. And finally, it was cold. Not pleasantly cool and brisk, but freezing, freezing cold.

So it is obvious why I was thoroughly cross by the time we got to the Leaky Cauldron. My hair was soaked and plastered to my forehead, my eyes were stinging, my cheeks and nose were alarmingly red, my lips were all chapped, and I was still feeling slightly carsick.

"All right, everyone?" asked Tonks/"Nora" cheerfully once we were inside the Leaky Cauldron, which was busier than I've ever seen it. "Shall we go into the Alley?"

"Can we get a round of Butterbeers to warm up first?" Harry asked.

"Sure," Tonks answered, settling down at one of the few remaining empty tables. Harry and Ron left to get the drinks.

"I…am…very…wet…and…cold," I said through chattering teeth. I was longingly eyeing the lovely, crackling fire.

"Oh, well then…_Calore_!" Tonks said, pointing her wand at me. I shut my eyes as a blast of heat came out of Tonks' wand and hit me in the face. I'll admit that I felt much warmer, but my hair went ultra-frizzy immediately. I hesitantly raised a hand to my hair to find it had poofed out to twice its normal size. I groaned.

"Sorry, got a bit carried away," said Tonks, clearly fighting the urge to grin. "You should try Sleakeazy's, Hermione, I hear it's really good stuff."

"I've used it before," I admitted. "It took nearly half the bottle to get my hair to behave, and it's quite expensive, so I never bothered again."

"Butterbeers!" Ron announced as he and Harry returned, plopping down mugs in front of the three of us. Ron glanced at me briefly. "Hey, what happened to your hair?"

"Whatever do you mean?" I said sarcastically.

"Well," Ron said, looking at it critically. "It doesn't look bad, you know. It's very…er…voluminous."

Ginny snorted into her Butterbeer.

When we finished our Butterbeers and finally went out to the courtyard leading to Diagon Alley, we found a crowd of people there, fighting over which one was the correct brick to tap. A hysterical older witch started screaming that she had to get her son a Nimbus 2001 and if there were none left in the shop by the time she got there because she was delayed at the entrance, she would curse us all to high heaven. Finally someone figured it out, and we were all pushed and shoved into Diagon Alley.

Diagon Alley was also not the fun, delightful, Christmas shopping wonderland that I had expected. Throngs of people were shoving their ways through the narrow street, their arms laden with shopping bags. Most of the snow on the street had been turned to slush by the coming and going of so many people. "Christmas Sale" banners hung lopsidedly in some shop windows, and other signs and posters had fallen into the snow and had been trampled by countless feet. Screaming toddlers were being tugged along by their mothers, and unhappy husbands with much lighter wallets were being tugged along by their wives. There was a frenzied, frantic feel in the air, and as we stepped out into the madness we saw a green flash of light go off in front of Madam Malkin's as someone tried to jinx another shopper.

"Ah, Christmastime in Diagon Alley," said Tonks fondly.

Thankfully, _Oddman's__ Odds and Ends_ wasn't extremely busy, so I managed to get my yarn without incident. But _The Worldly Witch_ was absolutely insane. There were witches everywhere, shoving and jostling and grabbing things out from under other people's noses. I had finally found a nice pair of earrings for Mum when I heard someone yell, "_Accio__ earrings!_" and they zoomed out from under me, into the hands of a triumphant-looking young blonde witch, who took off with them. I finally ended up getting a fairly decent brooch for Mum - it was rather nice, so I grabbed two (I thought I should get something nice for Mrs. Weasley, too, since she was so kind to me over the summer and always knits me a nice jumper for Christmas) and paid for them before claustrophobia set in.

Harry and Ron insisted on going into _Quality Quidditch Supplies_ (they had waited outside while Tonks, Ginny, and I went into _The Worldly Witch_), where I was going to buy something for Ginny, but the place was so packed with boys and men pushing and shoving and cursing at one another that I chose to go wait outside the shop while the rest of them perused through Quidditch supplies. Unfortunately, though, outside I ran into Parvati and Padma Patil.

"Hermione!" Parvati exclaimed, running over. She had about four shopping bags on each arm. "What are you doing here? I thought you were skiing!"

I searched my mind for an explanation of why I would be in Diagon Alley with Harry, Ron, Ginny, and "Nora", when I was supposed to be skiing with my parents.

"Erm…my dad broke his leg, actually," I blurted out. "So we couldn't go."

"Oh, that's too bad," said Padma.

"Who are you here with, then?" Parvati asked. "Just your mum?"

_Think, think, think_, I thought to myself furiously. _Mrs. Weasley was right, this was a bad idea…_

"Harry, Ron, and Ginny," I said truthfully.

"Oh, did you go to Ron's for Christmas as well, then?" Parvati asked, giggling. Padma rolled her eyes at the mention of Ron's name.

It was odd; I knew that we weren't staying at The Burrow, but when I tried to think of where we were staying or when I attempted to picture Grimmauld Place, I couldn't. I had no idea where we were staying or what it was called. It was as if the last few days in Grimmauld Place had gone completely blank in my mind.

"Yes, at The Burrow," I heard myself answer.

"Parvati! Padma!" called a tall witch with dark skin from within the crowd.

"Well, we really should be going," Padma said.

"Have fun at The Burrow," Parvati added, winking. "Bye, have a good Christmas!"

The twins hurried back to their mother. All memories of Grimmauld Place suddenly returned just as quickly as they had disappeared.

When the other four came out (they were delayed because an impatient and frustrated customer had hexed the cashier), I told them what happened.

"That would be _Fidelius_ for you," Tonks said. "Solid spell. Very powerful magic."

"I wasn't going to say anything, though," I insisted. "I wouldn't have told them."

"It's just a safety precaution," Tonks explained. "I know you wouldn't say anything, Hermione. But with _Fidelius_, even if you wanted to, you couldn't."

We then headed to _Flourish & Blotts_ at my request, which was quite busy, but not as bad as _The Worldly Witch_. Honestly, what is this world coming to when people would rather buy trinkets and jewelry than books? Harry and Ron puttered around for a bit (I think Harry bought _New Theory of Numerology_, which I hope is for me, because I've been wanting it for ages), and then Ron muttered something about going back to _Quality Quidditch Supplies_ and disappeared, even though Tonks had told us not to split up. But since Harry was busy and Ron was gone, it gave me a chance to pick up some useful presents for them - homework planners! They're just what those two procrastinators need! And they're amusing, too; when I opened one it said, "Get it done now, you lazy cow!" They'll think they're funny, at the very least.

I ended up getting _Witches and Quidditch_: _Four Hundred Fantastic Females in Quidditch History_ for Ginny, and then spent the rest of the time in there searching for a book to get Viktor. As I was poring through the Quidditch section, Tonks bounded over, looking pleased.

"Look what I got for Barty Hallaway," she said, holding up a book entitled _101 Legal Love Potions (and 204 Not-So-Legal Love Potions)_. "He's going to kill me!" she said delightedly.

"Who's Barty Hallaway?" I asked absently.

"Oh, he's a member of the You-Know-What of the You-Know-Which-Mythical-Creature…decent chap, but can't hold onto a girl. Who are you looking for?"

"Oh, well, you know…" I said vaguely. "Erm…Ton - I mean, Nora, what would you suggest to get for a…um…male acquaintance?"

"Ah," said Tonks, waggling her eyebrows. "Is this just any old male acquaintance?"

"No…not really," I answered, blushing. "He's sort of…a special male acquaintance, actually."

Well, it's true; Viktor and I may not be more than friends, but he's certainly not any old acquaintance. And I thought I should get him something really good, since he bought me that wonderful (and probably expensive) watch for my birthday.

"Hmm," said Tonks thoughtfully. "Well, he likes Quidditch, doesn't he?"

"Yes, but I don't want to just get him a book about Quidditch…something more thoughtful, you know? Something he'd really like," I answered, not really notcing that Tonks knew Viktor likes Quidditch, even though I hadn't mentioned his name.

"Ahhh," Tonks said, grinning. "Well then, you should have come into _Quality_ _Quidditch Supplies_ after all; I happened to overhear this particular young man say that what he really wants for Christmas is the speed upgrade for his Cleansweep."

"Hmm," I said vaguely, poring through a book entitled _The Best and Worst of the Quidditch World Cup_. Then something clicked.

"I'm not talking about Ron!" I exclaimed hotly.

"Oh?" said Tonks in surprise. "You aren't?"

"No!"

"Well then who are you talking about?" she asked, puzzled. "Not Harry?"

"No, no, it's…it's someone else…you don't know him," I said, feeling flustered.

"Oh," Tonks said, looking rather disappointed. "Well then, what did you buy for Ron?"

I help up the homework planners.

"A homework planner?" Tonks said in disgust.

"It'll be really practical and useful!" I protested. "And they need it, believe me."

"'They'? You mean you bought one for poor Harry, too?" Tonks said, shaking her head. "Come on, Hermione, where's your Christmas spirit?"

"_Stupefy_!" someone shrieked at the other end of the store. A man holding a leather-bound book fell to the ground, glassy-eyed. Another man quickly scooped the book out of his hands and hurried to the cash.

Tonks sighed. "The M.L.E.S. is going to have quite the mess on their hands this year…"

In the end, I ended up buying the brooches for Mum and Mrs. Weasley, the book for Ginny, the homework planners for Harry and Ron, catnip for Crookshanks (and a toy mouse that really squeaks and will run around for him to chase), and a whole lot of yarn. I finally found something really neat and useful for Viktor: it's a Weather Orb, this little glass orb that's supposed to show you what the next day's weather will be like when you look at it. I figure he can use it to be able to see what conditions will be like for Quidditch ahead of time. I just hope it works and it's not a scam (it better not be, it was really expensive), and that it doesn't just show the weather in Britain.

We managed to fight our way back to the Leaky Cauldron, which was even busier than before, and then trudged back to Mabel the car. After another car ride spent with my eyes squeezed shut, we mercifully arrived back at Grimmauld Place in one piece.  
I wonder why Tonks thought I meant Ron? I mean, did he say something to her? Or am I that transparent?

But oh well, it doesn't matter what Tonks thinks because I have accepted the fact that I like Ron and I have also accepted the fact that I will do absolutely nothing about it and will buy him homework planners and similarly neutral and practical gifts for Christmas from this point onwards.

In this way I intend to achieve emotional satisfaction.

* * *

**Ro**: Thanks for all your feedback, I really appreciate it! It's so nice to get a review with both praise and criticism. With regards to Hermione's work habits, her obsession with school and staying ahead seems like such a big part of her character that it's tough to not include it. But if it's getting tedious, I'll try to tone it down a bit. 

**Definemydreams**: Thanks for finally reviewing, and welcome to the FU!

**Terra**: Yeah, "Woo-hoo! Mr. Weasley's been horribly murdered!" was definitely NOT the reaction I was trying to convey. Thanks for pointing it out! **Hannah**: Welcome to the FU, too! (Ha. I rhyme.)

**Lord Marshal Riddick**: Really? I was under the impression that she didn't go on the ski trip at all, and that she came directly from Hogwarts after Dumbledore told her what happened. Here's where I got that from:

_'What are you doing here?' Harry asked her, pulling open the door as Buckbeak resumed his scratching at the straw-strewn floor for any fragments of rat he may have dropped. 'I thought you were skiing with your mum and dad?'_

_'Well, to tell the truth, skiing's not really my thing,' said Hermione. 'So, I've come here for Christmas.' There was snow in her hair and her face was pink with cold. 'But don't tell Ron. I told him skiing's really good because he kept laughing so much. Mum and Dad are a bit disappointed, but I've told them that everyone who is serious about the exams is staying at Hogwarts to study. (Chapter 9)_

I can't find any reference to ski regalia…just the bit about there being snow in her hair and her face being pink with cold, but I just assumed that was because she had taken the Knight bus and obviously had to go outside before coming into Grimmauld Place.

**Aria327**: Also welcome to the FU!

**Jaymee**** Gudgeon**: It's nice to be loved.

**FanFiction**** Fantom**: The fourth one _is_ finished…it's up on my site, which you can find a link to in my profile.


	26. Sunday, 24 December

**Author's Notes:** Funny how I planned to finish Christmas in this story during Christmas break. And here we are, in February, and I'm still on Christmas Eve. Oh well. I dared to dream.

I'll be away for the next week or so (yay Reading Week!), so no updates for a bit. But keep those reviews coming, and that constructive criticism…you know I love it!

Welcome to the FU, Tyn of ffaddix! 

Air of Mystery:

_Hermione: (sings) I don't get no emotional satisfaction..._

I almost died when I read that.

* * *

Sunday, 24 December

  
Christmas Eve!

_4:15 p.m._

All right, so my Christmas spirit is back in full swing, despite our terrible shopping experience on Friday. It's hard to resist Sirius's infectious Christmas spirit. I woke up this morning to him singing "Deck The Halls" at the top of his lungs to drown out Mrs. Black's insults, and knew that Christmas Eve had truly come to Number 12, Grimmauld Place.

The place is hardly recognizable because it looks so lovely with all the magical snow and the great big Christmas tree and the holly and garland everywhere. Sirius even put Father Christmas hats on the house elf heads and bewitched them to sing Christmas carols. I highly disapproved of this, because it is disrespectful towards the poor dead elves (their heads are on display in the corridor, for pity's sake…and now he's sticking red hats on them and making them sing?), but all of this makes Sirius happy, so I didn't voice my opinion (I did, however, remove the Father Christmas hats when he wasn't looking).

We took a day off from cleaning and decorating today to just laze around playing chess (blergh, I lost to Ron six times) and Exploding Snap. The twins have invented Christmas crackers that insult you when you open them, which Ron and Harry got a kick out of, of course. While the boys took turns rolling around on the floor laughing at each other as the Christmas crackers insulted each of them in turn, Ginny and I amused ourselves by perusing a copy of Witch's Weekly from 1973 that we found up in the attic. We spent an hour giggling at the ridiculous fashions and hairstyles they had back then. Apparently wizard fashions mimic Muggle fashions at the time; there were all sorts of pictures of witches with Farrah Fawcett hair and robes that flared out like bell-bottoms.

I've sent a quick letter to Mum and Dad ("I'm just getting ready to go down to the Christmas feast in the Great Hall"), and another to Viktor ("I can't believe they're making you play a Quidditch match on Christmas Eve! I do hope you get vacation pay or something"), along with their Christmas presents. Harry allowed me to borrow Hedwig for both deliveries. I feel sort of bad that Hedwig has to spend Christmas Eve flying to Bulgaria, but Harry told me not to worry about it, and assured me that owls probably do not celebrate Christmas Eve. Well, they are amazingly intelligent creatures…and anyway, he didn't have to make fun of me, I only meant that poor Hedwig shouldn't be flying out in the snow on a night like this. I didn't feel bad because I thought that she was going to be missing Christmas dinner with her owl family.

Speaking of Christmas dinner, I'd better get going; Mrs. Weasley probably needs help in the kitchen. Sirius has invited everyone from the Order and has been fussing about all day. I even caught him helping Mrs. Weasley with the cooking and donning a frilly apron. Ha - imagine what the _Daily Prophet_ would say. Sirius Black, mass murderer in an apron…

_1:30 a.m._

Ohhh…I am so full…I can't sleep because I can't roll over onto my stomach because it's going to burst if I put any pressure on it. Ginny, however, is sleeping like a baby and possibly looks even thinner than she did before she wolfed down three pieces of chocolate cake. It isn't fair.

Here is what I ate (inhaled?) at dinner (it was Mrs. Weasley's cooking…I couldn't resist…):

- five slices of turkey (three with gravy, two with cranberry sauce)

- four different kinds of potatoes (baked, mashed, scalloped, roasted…)

- several types of pies (shepherd's, mince, etc.)

- a million servings of stuffing

- every kind of pudding known to man (boiled puddings, steamed puddings…I think I even ate the pudding that Sirius accidentally set on fire this afternoon and then salvaged with magic, even though I swore to avoid it)

- one and a half slices of chocolate cake

- various tarts, custards, cookies, and even a piece of fruitcake

- three glasses of pumpkin juice, two glasses of eggnog, and a sip of wine (on a dare from Ron)

- one gingerbread man

Around six o'clock the doorbell started ringing (and Mrs. Black started hollering - but even she seems to be in the Christmas spirit, I could have sworn I heard a "Bah humbug" in amongst the usual insults) and various members of the Order began showing up carrying bowls of cranberry sauce and stuffing and all sorts of puddings and cookies and cakes. Tonks tried to bake an apple pie, but her Baking Spell had backfired, and for some reason her pie had ended up with a miniature apple tree growing out of the centre of it. Bill thought this was ingenious though, and placed the apple pie tree on display in the middle of the long table that Sirius had set up in the kitchen.

Kingsley showed up too, and Arabella Figg in her carpet slippers. Mundungus Fletcher came later, smelling strongly of alcohol (and this was before the six or seven glasses of wine he had at dinner). Professor Lupin also showed up, looking very happy and energetic (it's a new moon tonight, which is as far away from the full moon as one can get, I suppose). Even Mad-Eye Moody came, although people were leaping out of his path and keeping their distance all night, because a very silly Sirius (who drank entirely too much wine) had charmed some mistletoe to float above his head and follow him around all night. At one point Ron, Ginny, and I were actually in tears because we were trying so hard not to laugh at this. And then when Mad-Eye barked"Something wrong with you, boy" to Ron, who was clutching his stomach in silent laughter, it made it even funnier.

Harry wasn't too amused, though. I think he's still angry with Moody for thinking that he's possessed by Voldemort and calling him "funny". Not as in funny "ha ha", but as in "peculiar" funny.

Then there were a whole gaggle of people that I don't know very well and who only stayed for a bit - Barty Hallaway, the youngish wizard who "can't keep a girl", according to Tonks (he winked at me when we were introduced, which was sort of odd), stately Emeline Vance, Diedrich Diefenbaker, who only recently joined, little Dedalus Diggle, who fell asleep in the Yorkshire pudding after a few glasses of wine and a lot of turkey, and a few others whose names I didn't catch.

I wish Mr. Weasley could have been released from St. Mungo's to be with us. But, as he cheerfully informed Mrs. Weasley on her last visit, his wounds are still bleeding profusely. Mrs. Weasley said some very nice words about him before dinner, actually…and about the state of things in general.

"Before we start, let us give thanks…for our families and friends, for our healths, for the dedicated and wonderful group of people gathered around this table, for the temporary and tentative peace in our world." At this, several people frowned and worried looks darkened many faces. Mrs. Weasley kept her eyes fixed on the tablecloth and continued.

"Let us keep in mind those who…could not be with us this evening…" At this she pursed her lips into a very thin line, and I could see she wasn't just talking about Mr. Weasley, but about Percy, too. "And most importantly, I would like to give thanks that my husband is alive." She raised her glass. "To Arthur's speedy recovery and continued health."

Murmurs of "To Arthur" or "To Dad" or "To Mr. Weasley" (in the cases of Harry and I) echoed around the kitchen as everyone lifted their glasses in salute.

"And to Harry" Mrs. Weasley added, looking affectionately at Harry, who turned scarlet and tried to make himself invisible by slouching down in his chair. "Without him, who…who knows what would have happened to Arthur."

"To Harry" everyone repeated. Moody was frowning during this toast, but Sirius was beaming at everyone as if to say"That's my godson we're toasting." Or maybe it was just because he had already had a lot of wine.

"And to the Chudley Cannons" Ron said solemnly once the official toasts had ended and everyone had started eating. "May they finally win the Quidditch Cup."

"Time to give up the dream, Ron, old man" George said, shoveling potatoes onto his plate.

"The Cannons haven't caught the Snitch all season" added Fred, grabbing the potatoes from George.

"Have faith" Ron said simply. "Have faith…"

I've never seen so many members of the Order in one place, all cheerful and happy and laughing and talking. Everyone put all of their worries aside for one night and just enjoyed the amazing feast that Mrs. Weasley cooked for us. It was a Christmas dinner entirely unlike anything at home (usually for Christmas dinner we just go to Gramps' house with Aunt Charlotte and Uncle Thomas) or even the Christmas Feast at Hogwarts (because you're just sitting with your houses like at every other meal). This was loud and rowdy and happy and cheerful and I thoroughly enjoyed it, even though right now I feel like I'm going to be sick.


	27. Monday, 25 December

**Author's Notes:** This chapter presents my greatest challenge yet. For, you see, it is currently my 6th day in Aruba; I am sitting on the balcony of our hotel room overlooking the sweet, sweet turquoise waters of the ocean and a plethora of palm trees, it's thirty-five degrees Celsius (not sure what that is in Farenheit for all the Americans…um…ninety?), and I'm going to write the Christmas Day chapter for TSD.

Calypso music starts playing over at the pool

Yep, this is going to be a challenge.

**Author's Notes Part 2:** Okay, I'm back from vacation now and just finished off the end of this chapter. Hope you guys enjoy it!

_Ro:_ As always, thank you for all your constructive criticism! You know I appreciate it.

_Air of Mystery:_ Lol!

_Lavender Dusk:_ Hmm…The Silver Phoenix…I'll think about it.

_Rachel Anna:_ Welcome to the FU!

_Stella:_ Thank you so very much!

_don't feel like logging in:_ Nope, don't see a link…

_nebulia_ Also welcome to the FU!

Thanks to JamC for the creative list of possible pen names, which includes Silvery Phoenix, A Phoenix That Is Silver, and L'il Silver Phoenix. Thoughts? Further suggestions?

* * *

Monday, 25 December

Merry Christmas!

_11:04 a.m.._

Now I know Christmas is a time for family and friends and being thankful for what you have and, if you're religious, celebrating the birth of Jesus. And I know that I am far too old to be obsessed with the material aspect of Christmas like I was when I was younger. After all, the greatest gifts I could possibly get are Mum's and Dad's love and wonderful friends like Ron and Harry and Ginny and Viktor and everyone.

But a very tiny part of me was still excited when I woke up this morning to those large, lovely, brightly-coloured packages at the foot of my bed…and you know, a very small part of me still got a thrill when I ripped off that first bit of wrapping paper on each present…

Really, I suppose it doesn't matter how old you are, everyone can appreciate presents, right? I mean, who doesn't like presents?

All right, so here's what I got:

Ginny

Ginny made me open hers first and I made her open mine first. She absolutely loved _Witches_ _and Quidditch_: _Four Hundred Fantastic Females in Quidditch History_; in fact, apparently one of her favourite players, Angelica Ross of the some-alliterative-team-or-another was number two hundred and fifty-eight. So there you are.

Anyways, Ginny got me a package of Everlasting Quills, which I've heard are dead useful and are all the rage in America. I gasped when I opened the package and saw the words _Everlasting Quill_ written on the sides of the eight quills in the pack.

"Ginny! How did you - "

"They're not the real ones," Ginny said quickly. "They're just imitation ones…see, it doesn't actually say Everlasting, it says Everlosting."

I checked. She was right. The "o" was sort of wonky though and looked like an "a" if you weren't looking very hard.

"The shopkeeper said they'd only last about a week each, but they're still pretty useful…you only have to dip each one in an inkwell once and then you won't have to do it again for a whole week. I wanted to get you a real one…you know, the ones from America that actually do last forever, but they're so bloody expensive…" Ginny trailed off.

"These are fantastic," I said enthusiastically. "Who wants some stupid American quill, anyway? I'd much rather an Everlosting Quill than an Everlasting Quill."

We both started giggling. That's the great thing about Ginny; I can giggle about things with her and I don't feel stupid or girly. When Parvati and Lavender have their giggling fits I want to perform a Deafening Charm on myself.

Mum & Dad

Mum and Dad sent me a very lengthy letter detailing their ski trip and all the great skiing I've missed out on ("Daddy even suffered through lessons, although he got into a horrid row with the ski instructor when she told him that he's been doing it wrong for years") and sent a few photos of themselves waving from the top of the slopes, getting on the lift, sitting in the chalet, etc. I showed them to Ron at lunch and he spent the entire meal marveling at them and bombarding me with questions through mouthfuls of food. He asked the twins if they could do some magic to try to make the pictures move so he could see skiing in action, but I rescued the pictures before the twins could set them on fire or something.

Anyways, I was sort of disappointed when I unwrapped Mum's and Dad's present and found a little velvet jewelry box; Mum knows I don't wear earrings and bracelets and the like. But it wasn't a necklace or something that I'll never wear. It was a silver brooch in the shape of a wand; not an actual wand, mind you, but the kind of wand you see in Muggle fairy tale illustrations which looks like a stick with a star on the end of it. And in the middle of the star was a tiny amethyst stone.

I can't really explain why I like it so much; it's an inaccurate portrayal of a wand and I'm not really a fan of jewelry, as I said before. But it's sort of like…a symbol of magic and of what I am. When I was small all the girls at school had these stupid charm bracelets, and they would get charms to represent all the things they did or liked - like a ballet slipper if they danced, or a horse if they did horseback riding, etc. Emma Crick had a particularly gaudy one with about a thousand charms on it that jangled annoyingly. Not that I ever wanted one, but I remember thinking that if I did have a charm bracelet, I wouldn't know what charms to put on it. A tiny book-shaped charm? But now I have something special that's all my own, that I'm good at, and that none of those girls from school would be able to put on their charm bracelets - magic. And the fact that Mum (I know Dad probably didn't have much of a say in it, as he's rather proud of the fact that the only time he's been in a jewelry shop was to buy Mum's engagement ring) bought something that represents magic and that I'm a witch shows that she's really proud of what I am and what I can do. Even if she does think I'm a sorceress.

I pinned the brooch to my sweater and Mrs. Weasley told me at breakfast that it's lovely, although she was rather puzzled when I told her it was supposed to be a wand.

"But there's a funny star stuck on the end of it…" she said, frowning.

Oh well. I'm still rather fond of it.

Mrs. Weasley

Mrs. Weasley knit me the usual jumper (a surprising change from violet to pale blue this year…almost exactly the colour of my dress robes at the Yule Ball, as a matter of fact) and gave me a box of homemade fudge. I already ate half of it this morning. It's a good thing I don't live with Mrs. Weasley all year round, because if my mother's cooking was as good as hers I'd weigh five hundred pounds by now (no offense to Mum).

I'm rather glad I bought Mrs. Weasley that brooch; she was wearing it at breakfast and thought it was so sweet of me to think of her. She gave me a big hug when we went down to the kitchen, and I noticed when she pulled away that her eyes were red-rimmed and she was sniffling quite a lot. I think it's because Percy sent back his jumper. Ron said some choice words about this during breakfast which I do not care to repeat, but which reflect my feelings on the subject fairly well.

Harry

Harry did get me _The New Theory of Numerology_, just like I wanted! I was so pleased…I can always count on Harry to get me something sensible like a nice book. And he always seems to get me the right book…it's nice to know that when I go off on a tangent about how great Arithmancy is, at least Harry listens. Now I sort of feel bad that I only got him that homework planner. Oh well, he needs it. I gave him the gifts of organization and planning.

Viktor

Oh, dear. I don't even want to think about how much Viktor's present must have cost. It's a glass prism which contains a tiny, perfectly detailed model of our solar system. The planets are really revolving and slowly orbiting around the sun and all the constellations are visible and everything. I checked my Astronomy text (I brought it along so I could read ahead if I had extra time over the break) and everything is perfectly accurate - the planets are even in the correct orientation for 25 December, 1995. This will be so useful for doing Astronomy homework! Although I won't use it to cheat or as a shortcut, of course…I have to memorize the planets and their positions for the exam, anyway. I'll just use it to check my work.

And all I got Viktor was that stupid Weather Orb…it probably doesn't even work…I feel terrible…

Ginny was in the toilet when I opened Viktor's present, and I hid it under my bed before she came back. I don't think I want anyone knowing about it, a) because Ron and Harry will want to use it to cheat and b) Ron will no doubt have something unpleasant to say if he finds out Viktor is buying me expensive gifts.

Tonks

Tonks got Weird Sisters T-shirts for both Ginny and I. She told us last night that she had gone to a Weird Sisters concert a fortnight ago, so she must have picked them up for us when she went. It was very nice of her to think of us, and the T-shirts are quite neat; when you put them on I think your body heat activates a charm that makes the words "Weird Sisters" flash different colours. Ginny really likes hers and proudly wore it down to breakfast (Mrs. Weasley made her march back upstairs and put on something "more appropriate for Christmas Day", though), but…well, it's not that I'm not thankful, but I just can't see myself wearing a Weird Sisters T-shirt. It is a nice souvenir, though…even though I'll never go to a Weird Sisters concert, I can say I have the T-shirt. I wonder how that charm works…

Hagrid

As usual, Hagrid's Christmas present tried to attack me. This year it's a wallet with fangs. I think the fangs are supposed to prevent people from stealing your wallet, but seeing as I won't be able to get any money in it without getting my fingers ripped off, it's sort of pointless. Don't get me wrong, I love Hagrid and I'm so glad he's back, but I think I'll tell him that from now on, instead of getting me a Christmas gift he should just give a charitable donation to S.P.E.W.

Ron

Oh, boy.

I opened Ron's present last, I think because I was subconsciously dreading that it would be the matching necklace to that horrid bracelet he got me for my birthday. But when I opened the clumsily-wrapped package, instead of a gaudy multi-coloured necklace I saw a pear-shaped glass bottle with a pale, yellow liquid inside.

"Huh," I said out loud, examining it. There was no note or anything - what kind of potion was it supposed to be?

"What's that?" Ginny called from her side of the room, where she was toying with Charlie's gift - a model of a dragon that spurted Every Flavour Beans instead of fire.

"No idea," I responded, turning the liquid upside down. Was it supposed to be some kind of joke? Maybe Ron expected me to try to drink the potion, and when I did I would turn into a parrot or something. I rolled my eyes at this thought - how stupid did he think I was?

Ginny walked over, squeezing her dragon model and catching the jellybean that flew out of its mouth. She gave the jellybean to me and I munched on it contemplatively (I think it was mutton-flavoured). Ginny held out her hand and I handed the bottle to her.

"It's perfume, silly," Ginny announced. She looked at me suspiciously. "Who's sending you perfume?"

"Erm…your brother," I muttered, feeling my cheeks grow hot.

Ginny choked on an Every Flavour Bean. "Which one?" she exclaimed.

"Bill," I said sarcastically. "Which one do you think?"

"Ha, ha," Ginny said wryly. "I meant that I thought it might be the twins, you know…one of their jokes, and the perfume is actually really rancid or something." She looked at me slyly as she handed back the bottle. "Ron's buying you perfume?"

"Shut up."

"Well, aren't you going to try it on?" Ginny asked in a singsong voice.

I sprayed it into the air rather than on myself, just to be safe. Ginny took a whiff of it and then looked puzzled. I sniffed and frowned. It wasn't necessarily a bad smell…just…odd. It wasn't flowery or fruity or the usual perfume smells. It was a somewhat familiar smell, but I couldn't place it. I still can't figure out what it reminds me of…it's been bothering me all morning. It smells sort of…clean. That's the only word I can think of to describe it.

"Can I see the bottle again?" Ginny asked. I handed it to her again, and she inspected it more closely. When she looked at the bottom, she suddenly burst into laughter. I hate it when she does that.

"What?" I asked, annoyed. She showed me the bottom of the bottle. In spindly letters were written the words _Dame DuPont_.

"So?" I said impatiently.

Still chuckling, Ginny went back over to her side of the room and started rummaging around in one of her drawers. She emerged with a recent copy of _Witch Weekly_ (she says she only reads it for the crosswords and puzzles, but I have my suspicions…) and flipped it open to a brightly-coloured ad. Grinning wickedly, Ginny showed me the ad:

_Tired of spending a fortune on overpriced perfumes? Wish you could give your sweetheart a special gift made by you? Want to create a unique scent that's tailored especially to your needs and preferences?_

_Dame DuPont's Do-It-Yourself Perfumes_

_It's simple! Just follow our easy-to-do steps! Choose your own ingredients from the wide selection offered in our kit to create your own unique fragrance! All the class of a store-bought perfume, without the cost! (But she doesn't have to know that…)_

_"I couldn't brew a potion to save my life. But Dame DuPont's Do-It-Yourself Perfumes are so easy to make! I must have about a thousand fragrances by now…" Mabel Worthshire, Bath._

_"My girlfriend was always complaining that I was too cheap. Boy, was she surprised when she got perfume for her birthday! I told her it cost fifty galleons. She'll never know it actually cost fifty sickles!" Anonymous customer, London_

_Each kit includes:_

_- Easy-to-follow instructions!_

_- A wide selection of ingredients!_

_- A beautiful perfume bottle to store your creation in!_

_Get yours today!_

_Note: Dame DuPont's Do-It-Yourself Perfumes may cause itching, rashes, or skin colouration in some rare cases. Please test on a small portion of skin before excessive use._

I slowly looked up from the magazine. Ginny was still grinning.

"He couldn't get you real perfume because it's too expensive, so he must have bought one of those kits…honestly, the fool, everyone knows these things never actually work…"

I suddenly felt very defensive of Ron. "Well, it's a very nice thought," I heard myself say in a rather high-pitched voice. "And it's not a bad smell, just…odd."

Ginny stopped that infernal grinning for a second to wrinkle her nose. "What is it? It smells weirdly familiar…"

"Don't know," I said, suddenly feeling business-like. I shoved the perfume bottle into my trunk, where I had already hid Viktor's solar system.

"Well, that's all of my presents, I'm going down to breakfast. Hurry up and get dressed," I said briskly. I grabbed Kreacher's present, strolled out of the room, and headed downstairs before Ginny could tease me about the perfume any more. I was still trying to figure out what on earth that smell was when I nearly walked into Ron himself on the stairs.

"Whoa," Ron said, leaping aside so I wouldn't barrel into him. "Merry Christmas."

I quickly assessed Ron's facial expression. Did he look like someone who had just bought me perfume - strange perfume, but perfume nonetheless? Ron scratched his nose and looked nonchalant as Harry wished me a Merry Christmas as well. Hm.

"Thanks for the book, Harry! I've been wanting that _New Theory of Numerology_ for ages," I said happily, still watching Ron's expression carefully. "And that perfume's really…unusual, Ron."

And then I saw it. I don't think Harry noticed, and I may not have either unless I was looking for it, but there it was…that slight pinkness at the tip of his ears.

"No problem. Who's that for, anyway?" he said quickly, nodding at Kreacher's present. Ah ha…trying to change the subject, perhaps?

Wait, wait, wait. No. I am not going to overanalyze this. So Ron bought some mail-order kit to make me perfume for Christmas. It doesn't mean anything, and quite frankly I don't care, because I'm going to achieve emotional satisfaction and he's not going to stop me.

I'd better go; we're going to have lunch soon and then go visit Mr. Weasley at St. Mungo's. I'm actually quite excited to visit St. Mungo's, although I wish the circumstances were different, of course. As far as I know, Mundungus has obtained a car (as with our Christmas tree, the circumstances surrounding the obtainment of this car are sketchy) and he's going to drive us to the hospital (I can only pray that he's a better driver than Tonks). I wonder what a wizarding hospital is like…

_9:00 p.m._

Oh, Neville…I never knew…

St. Mungo's was fascinating, of course, but that's not important…after visiting Mr. Weasley (who is doing much better, although he seems to have tried to stitch his wounds together the Muggle way and it didn't entirely work out) Ron, Harry, Ginny and I left to go find the tearoom. Mrs. Weasley had found out about the stitches, you see, and we thought it would be wise to gracefully bow out during the confrontation that followed.

On our way to the tearoom, however, we were stopped by the sight of the last person I imagined we would see at St. Mungo's - Professor Lockhart.

"Well hello there!" he said brightly. He's still very handsome, of course…but now, his smile seems sort of vacant and his eyes look very dull. He started going on about signing autographs for all of us and we were beginning to feel very uncomfortable (particularly Ron, whose wand caused the damage to Professor Lockhart's memory), when a Healer poked her head out of a door and came bustling down the corridor.

"Gilderoy, you naughty boy, where have you wandered off to?" she said in a motherly voice. Ron grabbed mine and Ginny's sleeves and tried to tug us away, but the Healer spotted us. "Oh Gilderoy, you've got visitors! How lovely, and on Christmas Day too! Do you know, he never gets visitors, poor lamb, and I can't think why, he's such a sweetie, aren't you?"

I know that the only reason Professor Lockhart is there is because he tried to curse Ron and Harry, but still…I think we all started feeling very sorry for him.

"He's in a closed ward, you know," the Healer continued conversationally, "he must have slipped out while I was bringing in the Christmas presents, the door's usually kept locked…not that he's dangerous! But he's a bit of a danger to himself, bless

him…doesn't know who he is, you see, wanders off and can't remember how to get back… it is nice of you to have come to see him."

We all felt even worse.

Before we knew it, we were following the Healer and Professor Lockhart, who was still going on about autographs and joined-up writing, down the hall and into the closed ward. Although it had been decorated festively for Christmas, and there was an attempt to make it seem homey by surrounding many of the residents with their personal possessions, there was an unsettling feeling to the ward. One man was staring at the ceiling, muttering to himself. Another woman's head was covered entirely in fur - I was unpleasantly reminded of my own experience in second year. A girl who may have been only a few years older than me (although it was hard to tell, because she had premature wrinkles and there were silver streaks in her hair) was lying in bed, staring at the ceiling with wide eyes, completely motionless. I shivered and stepped closer to Ron.

"This is our long-term residents' ward," the Healer told us. "For permanent spell damage, you know. Of course, with intensive remedial potions and charms and a bit of luck, we can produce some improvement."

I looked around again in horror. Some improvement? Wasn't there anything that could be done for those people?

I was so disturbed by the ward and the people in it that I didn't even notice Ron calling Neville's name until he was a few feet away from us. Snapping back to reality, I realized that Neville Longbottom was coming towards us with a very formidable-looking woman who I presumed was his grandmother. I stared at him in surprise.

"Friends of yours, Neville, dear?" said Neville's grandmother. I fought a strong urge to curtsy to her. I think Mrs. Longbottom causes that kind of reaction in people.

Mrs. Longbottom recognized Harry, of course, and Ron and Ginny by their hair, but I was very surprised when she turned to me and said, "And you must be Hermione Granger?"

Surprised, I shook her hand when she held it out. Mrs. Longbottom had quite a grip.

"Yes, Neville's told me all about you. Helped him out of a few sticky spots, haven't you?" She looked at me approvingly, and I felt the blood rush to my cheeks. "He's a good boy, but he hasn't got his father's talent, I'm afraid to say." And with that, she nodded at a pair of beds surrounded by flowery curtains at the end of the ward.

My eyes widened.

"What?" Ron, being the insensitive, oblivious idiot that he is, exclaimed in amazement. "Is that your dad down the end there, Neville?"

Ginny looked shocked. Harry looked as if he wanted to pinch Ron. I felt mortified; clearly if Neville's father was in this particular ward, he had been here there for some time. And if Neville hadn't told us about it before, it was probably for a reason. I had always just assumed that Neville lived with his grandmother because his parents had passed away when he was young and that he didn't like to talk about it. Ron continued to stare at Neville expectantly.

"What's this?" said Mrs. Longbottom sharply. "Haven't you told your friends about your parents, Neville?"

Neville looked like he wanted to disappear. He took a deep breath and shook his head.

"Well, it's nothing to be ashamed of!" said Mrs. Longbottom angrily. "You should be proud, Neville, proud!They didn't give their health and their sanity so their only son would be ashamed of them, you know!"

"I'm not ashamed," Neville said in a very small voice, staring at the floor.

"Well you've got a funny way of showing it!" Mrs. Longbottom snapped. She turned to us. "My son and his wife were tortured into insanity by You-Know-Who's followers."

I felt my jaw drop, and my hand went to my mouth in horror. Ron immediately stopped craning his neck to get a better look at Neville's parents and looked horrified.

Just then, a very thin and frail-looking woman with the same overlarge eyes as the teenage girl in the bed came tottering over in her nightdress. If you looked at her hard enough, you could see the ghost of a woman who resembled Neville. She beckoned to Neville, who stretched out his hand. I suddenly felt that we should probably all look away and mind our own business, but I was frozen and my eyes were fixed to the scene. Neville's mother dropped a gum wrapper into Neville's hand.

"Thanks, Mum," he said quietly. Neville's mum headed back to her bed, humming to herself. I felt like I was going to cry.

"Well, we'd better get back…nice to have met you all," said Mrs. Longbottom briskly. "Neville, put that wrapper in the bin, she must have given you enough of them to paper your bedroom by now."

But when his grandmother wasn't looking, Neville put the wrapper in his pocket. They left the ward, Neville avoiding our eyes.

The four of us just stood there, not sure what to say or do.

"I never knew," I finally said in a thick voice.

"Nor did I," said Ron hoarsely.

"Nor me," whispered Ginny.

We all looked to Harry expectantly.

"I did," he said miserably. Why didn't he stop Ron from opening his big mouth, then!

"Dumbledore told me but I promised I wouldn't tell anyone," Harry said in a low voice. "That's what Bellatrix Lestrange got sent to Azkaban for, using the Cruciatus Curse on Neville's parents until they lost their minds."

Bellatrix Lestrange is Sirius's cousin…she's the woman who Kreacher has a photo of in his bedroom…oh, how could Sirius and Tonks have come from such a family?

When we went back to Mr. Weasley's room, a very young and nervous-looking Healer seemed to have calmed Mrs. Weasley down somewhat, and Professor Lupin was writing something down for the man in the bed next to Mr. Weasley (Ginny told me later that he had been bitten by a werewolf). Bill, Mundungus, and the twins returned (the twins with bulging pockets…I don't even want to know) and we all headed home.

Ron, Ginny, Harry, and I were silent on the way home. We didn't even say anything when we got back to Grimmauld Place and discovered that the twins had replaced all of the doorknobs with the latest Weasley's Wizard Wheezes creations - fake doorknobs that screamed and screeched at you when you tried to open a door. They said that they got the inspiration for the idea from Mrs. Black.

"We still have to think of a name for the product, of course," Fred said brightly as the parlour's doorknob yelled at Ron to get his dirty paws off of it. Ron, Ginny, Harry, and I said nothing.

"What's the matter with you lot?" George asked, looking crestfallen.

"Nothing," Harry muttered.

Without saying anything to each other, we all reached an unspoken agreement to go upstairs, and silently followed Harry into his and Ron's room. Ron and Harry sat on Harry's bed and Ginny and I sat on Ron's. We were all silent for a long time.

"Isn't there anything…anything that can be done for them, Harry?" I finally said in a small voice.

"I dunno," Harry said, sounding tired. "They've been there for a long time."

We were quiet for a bit again. "Lockhart," Ginny suddenly said, shaking her head.

"Serves him right, what he tried to do to us. He was going to leave you to die in the Chamber of Secrets, you know," Harry said, but he even he looked a bit sorry for Professor Lockhart.

"I know," said Ginny. "But still…I wouldn't wish that on anybody…"

We all lapsed into silence once again, until Ron suddenly said in a low, fervent voice, "I am going to be nice to Neville for the rest of my life."

Mrs. Weasley came up to see if we wanted some leftovers for dinner, but no one was feeling very hungry. Sirius, who was still in a very merry mood, came upstairs later and tried to entice us to sing Christmas carols with him, and then became disappointed and bitter when we told him we just weren't in the mood.

I can't stop thinking about Neville's parents. All those Healers at St. Mungo's and they can only make limited progress with people like the Longbottoms or Professor Lockhart or that teenage girl with the wrinkles. You know…I would love to take S.P.E.W. farther, but once I've accomplished house-elf liberation…maybe I'll think about being a Healer.

I think I'm going to do some revision and then go to bed…not a very exciting end to Christmas Day, but it's hard to feel merry when you know that some people are spending their Christmas in the closed ward at St. Mungo's.

_10:25 p.m._

Laundry detergent!

That's what the perfume smells like!

Laundry detergent…oh, Ron…


	28. Sunday, 31 December

**Author's Notes:** These are going to be really long author's notes. Sorry. Skip to after the long line type thing if you don't care.

Sorry it's been awhile, folks. I can't even offer you a super-long chapter in repayment, but I can offer you the end of The Sorceress Diaries: Book 2. Book 3 will (hopefully) resume on New Year's Day of 1996, and will cover up to the end of Hermione's school year.

I just want to say thank you again to everyone who has been reading and reviewing…you're all super wonderful, and although this fic takes a lot of time and energy to write (I've re-read and/or typed out some sections of OotP for the purposes of this fic so many times that I could probably quote certain scenes by heart) it's totally worth it when someone (read: chlorinator101) writes a Rolling Stones review song. Rock on.

Regarding the pen name, I want to thank everyone for their suggestions, especially Jess, who suggested "Phoenix Argentum" - Silver Phoenix in Latin. I really, _really_ like that name, but the only thing stopping me from using it is that I still want to be recognizable as good 'ol "Silver Phoenix". I also enjoyed "Not Silver Phoenix" from Coughdrop, as that would probably be an extremely effective way of stopping them from picking on me. But, I think I'm going to stick with Silvver with two v's. I've become rather fond of it, actually. So Silvver Phoenix I shall be.

Welcome to the FU, JKRobsessed, ProudMuggleGirl, and sveltskye!

_Joanna99_: Unfortunately, I cannot bring back the parodies because it is beyond my control…but you can read them on my website (see my profile).

_Blue_: Yes, I am well aware what "FU" sounds like. That's the point.

_Air of Mystery_: Ha…Ghost of Emotional Satisfaction.

Phew! Finally, I present…the actual chapter.

* * *

Sunday, 31 December

_2:00 p.m._

The post-holiday blues have set in.

It started at the end of Christmas Day, when Ginny, Ron, Harry, and I were feeling down because of Neville, and Sirius got upset that we wouldn't join him in being merry and such. The four of us were still kind of down in the dumps on Boxing Day ("I don't understand why Muggles call it that," said Ron confusedly. "Isn't boxing that sport with the big, funny red gloves? What's that have to do with the day after Christmas?") and Sirius was again disappointed that we didn't want to play Gobstones with the brand new set Professor Lupin had bought for him. By the end of Boxing Day Sirius was back in Buckbeak's room. He's been prone to "fits of the sullens", as Mrs. Weasley calls them, ever since.

Like his cheerful mood before, Sirius's gloomy mood has spread just as quickly. Everyone's been bored and listless, and I never thought I'd say it, but if we have leftover Christmas puddings for lunch one more time I think I'm going to go mad. Even the beautiful Christmas decorations we put up are beginning to lose their cheerfulness. The tinsel hanging from the banisters has gone kind of limp and droopy, the fake snow just seems to be cluttering the place up now, and the pieces of furniture that Sirius charmed to sing Christmas carols are beginning to sound hoarse. The boudoir on the second floor has taken to heaving a great sigh before launching into its now-raspy version of "We Wish You a Merry Christimas", which is now peppered with phrases like "Good something's we bring…to you and your…something, good tidings for…oh, bother…"

Mrs. Weasley won't let us take the decorations down, though, because she says the holidays aren't really over until after New Year's Day. Sirius brightened up for a little while at the thought of a New Year's Eve party at Grimmauld Place like the Christmas Eve party we had, but when he found out that most of the Order was busy on New Year's Eve, he got sullen again. I think Mundungus and Tonks might stop by tonight, and possibly Professor Lupin, but everyone else seems to have plans.

Fred and George are making an effort to be cheerful, at least; but really, the joke about the vampire and the werewolf was only funny the first time, and I think Lupin gets slightly more offended every time they tell it, although he'd never admit it.

Sirius finally found Kreacher (he was in the attic), but instead of being glad everyone just seemed to get even more bitter and grumpy. Kreacher hasn't thanked me for my Christmas present yet…but I'm sure it's just because he's shy.

Speaking of Christmas presents, I haven't mentioned the laundry detergent perfume to Ron since Christmas Day and he hasn't mentioned it to me. I think he was trying to hint at something yesterday at breakfast, though, because he very loudly asked his mother if she was wearing new perfume and then glanced over at me, but that might be reading too much into things.

Crookshanks disappeared last night and proudly pranced into my bedroom this morning with the largest dead rat I have ever seen dangling from his mouth. Ginny and I fought for half an hour over who should dispose of it. Finally we just called George, who did away with the rat with magic, but not before "accidentally" turning Crookshanks purple. The point of this story? There are enormous rats running around Grimmauld Place. As if the dead Puffskeins in the closets and the knickknacks that try to hypnotize you weren't bad enough.

As bad as Grimmauld Place is - I can't believe I'm actually going to write this - I'm not looking forward to going back to Hogwarts, either. I've been trying to do some revision (after all, O.W.L.'s are only six months away!) but I find I can't concentrate nearly as well as I could when I was revising in the summer and there was a wonderful new year of learning to look forward to. Now, every time I think of going back to Hogwarts, I think of Umbridge and shudder. She's ruined Hogwarts for everyone.

I actually confessed my negative feelings about going back to the boys a few days ago, and after Ron feigned an over-dramatic bout of shock, the two of them also admitted that they weren't looking forward to going back.

"What's the point?" Ron said gloomily. We were sitting around the kitchen after lunch, doing absolutely nothing. "She's ruined Defense Against the Dark Arts, she's completely ruined Gryffindor's chances in Quidditch, she's going to sack Hagrid…she's taken away everything good about Hogwarts."

"Not the DA," Harry reminded him. "We still have the DA…"

"Yeah," Ron said. "Yeah, there's still the DA."

"If it weren't for you two and the DA, I reckon I wouldn't go back at all," Harry sighed.

"Harry!" I exclaimed. "But what about O.W.L's?"

Harry groaned. "I'd forgotten about O.W.L's. Oh boy, something else to look forward to," he said sarcastically.

Sadly, I almost felt as though I could agree with him.

I have to get out of this mood. I have to get motivated again. O.W.L.'s are just around the corner, and I've barely started revising. We have to know everything. Anything we've learned in four and a half years is fair game. I mean, I've only gotten through half my notes from first year so far…it's appalling how behind I am…

Well in a few hours' time it will be a new year, and hopefully things will start to change for the better. If this were a perfect world, in the new year the Order would find and defeat Voldemort for good, all the Death Eaters would check themselves into Azkaban, Sirius's name would be cleared, the Ministry would admit what idiots they've been, and Umbridge would retire from her teaching post in humiliation and there would be much rejoicing.

Unfortunately, we don't live in a perfect world…but here's hoping that the new year will at least be better than this one has been.

**To be continued in…**

**_The Sorceress Diaries: Book 3_**


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